JOHNA.SEAVERNS 


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Webster  Family  Library  of  Veterinary  Medicine 

Cummings  School  of  Veterinary  Medicine  at 

Tufts  University 

200  Westtwro  Road 

Nortti  Grafton,  MA  01636 


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AN 


American  Four-in-Hand 


In  Britain 


BY 

ANDREW  CARNEGIE 


NEW    YORK 
CHARLES   SCRIBNER'S   SONS 

1S87 


-^ns* 


Copyright,  1883,  1886,  by 
CHARLES  SCRIBNER'S  SONS. 


PRE53  OF    J.    J.  IITTIE  L  CO., 
NOS.    10   TO  20    ASTOR    PLACE,  Nfcsv   VORK. 


I  DEDICATE  THESE  PAGES 


My  Favorite  Heroine. 


ills  illotf)er. 


PREFACE. 


The  publication  of  this  book  renders  neces- 
sary a  few  words  of  explanation.  It  was  orig- 
inally printed  for  private  circulatio7i  among  a 
few  dear  friends — those  who  were  not  as  well 
as  those  who  were  of  the  coaching  party — to 
be  treasured  as  a  souvenir  of  happy  days.  The 
house  which  has  undertaken  the  responsibility  of 
giving  it  a  wider  circulation  believed  that  its 
publication  might  give  pleastcre  to  some  who 
would  not  otherwise  see  it.  It  is  not  difficult 
to  persuade  one  that  his  work  which  has  77iet 
with  the  approval  of  his  immediate  circle  may 
be  worthy  of  a  larger  audience ;  and  the  author 
was  the  more  easily  induced  to  consent  to  its  re- 
print because^  the  first  edition  being  exhausted, 
he  was  no  lo7iger  able  to  fill  many  requests  for 
copies. 

The  original  inte7it  of  the  book  must  be  the 
excuse  for    the    highly  personal   nature    of   the 


viii  Preface. 

narrative,  which  could  scarcely  be  changed  with- 
out a7i  entire  re7nodelling,  a  task  for  which  the 
writer  had  neither  time  nor  inclination  ;  so,  with 
the  exception  of  a  few  sttppressions  ajid  some 
additions  which  seemed  necessary  tinder  its  new 
conditions,  its  character  has  not  been  materially 
altered.  Trusting  that  his  readers  may  derive 
from  a  perusal  of  its  pages  a  tithe  of  the  pleas- 
ure which  the  Gay  Charioteers  experienced  in 
performing  the  journey,  and  wishing  that  all 
may  live  to  see  their  "  ships  come  home "  and 
then  enjoy  a  similar  excursion  for  the^nselves, 
he  subscribes  himself. 

Very  Sincerely, 

The  Author. 

New    York,  May  I,   1S83. 


AN 


American    Four-in-Hand 


In  Britain 


AN    AMERICAN    FOUR-IN-HAND 
IN    BRITAIN. 

Long  enough  ago  to  permit  us  to  sing,  "  For  we  are 
boys,  merry,  merry  boys,  Merry,  merry  boys  together," 
and  the  world  lay  all  before  us  where  to  choose,  Dod, 
Vandy,  Harry,  and  I  walked  through  Southern  Eng- 
land with  knapsacks  on  our  backs.  What  pranks  we 
played !  Those  were  the  happy  days  when  we  heard 
the  chimes  at  midnight  and  laughed  Sir  Prudence  out 
of  countenance.  "  Dost  thou  think,  because  thou  art 
virtuous,  there  shall  be  no  more  cakes  and  ale  ?  "  Nay, 
verily.  Sir  Gray  Beard,  and  ginger  shall  be  hot  i'  the 
mouth  too  !     Then  indeed 

"  The  sounding  cataract 
Haunted  me  like  a  passion  ;  the  tall  rock, 
The  mountain,  and  the  deep  and  gloomy  wood, 
Their  colors  and  their  forms,  were  then  to  me 
An  appetite  ;  a  feeling  and  a  love 
That  had  no  need  of  a  remoter  charm, 
By  thought  supplied,  or  any  interest 
Unborrowed  from  the  eye." 

It  was  during  this  pedestrian  excursion  that  I  an- 
nounced that  some  day,  when  my  **  ships  came  home," 

I 


2  Four-in-Hand  in  Britain. 

I  should  drive  a  party  of  my  dearest  friends  from 
Brighton  to  Inverness.  Black's  "Adventures  of  a 
Phaeton"  came  not  long  after  this  to  prove  that  another 
Scot  had  divined  how  idyllic  the  journey  could  be 
made.  It  was  something  of  an  air-castle — of  a  dream — 
those  far-off  days,  but  see  how  it  has  come  to  pass ! 

The  world,  in  my  opinion,  is  all  wrong  on  the  sub- 
ject of  air-castles.  People  are  forever  complaining 
that  their  chateaux  en  Espagne  are  never  realized.  But 
the  trouble  is  with  them — they  fail  to  recognize  them 
when  they  come.  "To-day,"  says  Carlyle,  "is  a  king 
in  disguise,"  and  most  people  are  in  possession  of  their 
air-castles,  but  lack  the  trick  to  see't. 

Look  around  you  !  see  Vandy,  for  instance.  When 
we  were  thus  doing  Merrie  England  on  foot,  he  with  a 
very  modest  letter  of  credit  stowed  away  in  a  belt 
round  his  sacred  person — for  Vandy  it  was  who  always 
carried  the  bag  (and  a  faithful  treasurer  and  a  careful 
one  too — good  boy,  Vandy !) ;  he  was  a  poor  student 
then,  and  you  should  have  heard  him  philosophize  and 
lord  it  over  us  two,  who  had  been  somewhat  fortunate 
in  rolling  mills,  and  were  devoted  to  business.  "  Great 
Caesar!  boys,  if  I  ever  get  fifteen  hundred  dollars  a 
year  income!"  (This  was  the  fortune  I  was  vaguely 
figured  up  to  be  worth  under  ordinary  conditions.) 
"Great  Caesar!  boys" — and  here  the  fist  would  come 
down  on  the  hard  deal  table,  spilling  a  few  drops  of 
beer — "  fifteen   hundred    dollars   a  year  !      Catch   me 


Air-Castles,  3 

working  any  more  like  a  slave,  as  you  and  -Harry  do  !  " 
Well,  well,  Vandy's  air-castle  was  fifteen  hundred  dol- 
lars a  year ;  yet  see  him  now  when  thousands  roll  in 
upon  him  every  month.  Hard  at  it  still — and  see  the 
goddess  laughing  in  her  sleeve  at  the  good  joke  on 
Vandy.  He  has  his  air-castle,  but  doesn't  recognize 
the  structure. 

There  is  Miss  Fashion.  How  fascinating  she  was 
when  she  descanted  on  her  air-castle — then  a  pretty 
cottage  with  white  and  red  roses  clustering  beside  the 
door  and  twining  over  it  in  a  true-lover's  knot,  symbol- 
izing the  lover's  ideal  of  mutual  help  and  dependence — 
the  white  upon  the  red.  No  large  establishment  for 
her,  nor  many  servants !  One  horse  (I  admit  it  was 
always  to  be  a  big  one),  and  an  elegant  little  vehicle ; 
plenty  of  garden  and  enough  of  pin  money.  On  this 
point  there  was  never  to  be  the  slightest  doubt, 
so  that  she  could  really  get  the  best  magazines  and 
one  new  book  every  month — any  one  she  chose.  A 
young  hard-working  husband,  without  too  much  in- 
come, so  that  she  might  experience  the  pleasure  of 
planning  to  make  their  little  go  far.  Behold  her  now  ! 
her  husband  a  millionaire,  a  brown-stone  front,  half  a 
dozen  horses,  a  country  place,  and  a  box  at  the  opera ! 
But,  bless  your  heart !  she  is  as  unconscious  of  the 
arrival  of  her  castle  as  she  is  that  years  creep  upon  her 
apace. 

The  Goddess  Fortune,  my  friends,  rarely    fails  to 


4  Four-i7i-Ha7td  in  Britain, 

give  to  mortals  all  they  pray  for  and  more  ;  but  how  she 
must  stand  amazed  at  the  blindness  of  her  idolators, 
who  continue  to  offer  up  their  prayers  at  her  shrine, 
wholly  unconscious  that  their  first  requests  have  been 
granted  !  It  takes  Fortune  a  little  time  to  prepare  the 
gifts  for  so  many  supplicants — the  toys  each  one  spe- 
cially wants;  and  lo  and  behold  !  before  they  can  be 
delivered  (though  she  works  with  speed  betimes)  the 
unreasonable  mortals  have  lost  conceit  of  theij  prizes, 
and  their  coming  is  a  mockery;  they  are  crying  for 
something  else.  If  the  Fates  be  malignant,  as  old  re- 
ligions teach,  how  they  must  enjoy  the  folly  of  man! 

Imagine  a  good  spirit  taking  Fortune  to  task  for 
the  misery  and  discontent  of  mortals,  as  she  gazes  with 
piteous  eyes  upon  our  disappointments,  our  troubles, 
and,  saddest  of  all,  our  regrets,  charging  her  with  pro- 
ducing such  unhappiness.  "  Why  have  you  done  this?" 
would  be  the  inquiry.  Listen  to  the  sardonic  chuckle 
of  the  Fate  :  "  Hush  !  I've  only  given  them  what  they 
asked  (chuckle — chuckle — chuckle)  !  Not  my  fault  ! 
See  that  unhappy  wretch,  sleeplessly  and  feverishly 
tossing  on  his  pillow,  and  in  his  waking  hours  absorb- 
ing all  his  lofty  faculties  in  gambling  at  the  Stock  Ex- 
change— wife,  children,  home,  music,  art,  culture,  all 
forgotten.  He  was  once  a  bright,  promising,  ingenuous 
youth.  He  was  born  among  trees  and  green  fields, 
spent  the  morn  of  life  in  the  country,  sensitive  and  re- 
sponsive to  all  nature's  whisperings ;  lay  in  cool,  leafy 


Air-Castles.  5 

shades,  wandered  in  forest  glades,  and  paddled  in  the 
*  complaining  brooks  which  make  the  meadow  green.' 
Nay,  not  many  years  ago  he  returned  at  intervals  to 
these  scenes,  and  found  their  charm  had  still  power 
over  him — felt  the  truth  of  the  poet's  words,  that 

"  '  To  him  who  in  the  love  of  nature  holds 

Communion  with  her  visible  forms,  she  speaks 
A  various  language  ;  for  his  gayer  hours 
She  has  a  voice  of  gladness,  and  a  smile 
And  eloquence  of  beaucy,  and  she  glides 
Into  his  darker  musings,  with  a  mild 
And  healing  sympathy,  that  steals  away 
Their  sharpness,  ere  he  is  aware.' 

"  He  asked  for  enough  to  live  honorably  upon 
among  his  fellows,"  continues  the  Fate,  "  and  to  keep 
his  parents  comfortable  in  their  old  age— a  matter  of  a 
few  hundreds  a  year — and  I  gave  him  this  and  thou- 
sands more.  Ha,  ha,  ha!  Silence!  Look  at  him;  he 
doesn't  see  the  joke.  Oh  yes,  you  may  try  to  tell  it 
to  him,  if  you  like.  He  has  no  time  to  listen,  nor  ears 
to  hear,  nor  eyes  to  see ;  no,  nor  soul  to  understand 
your  language.  He's  *  short '  on  New  Jersey  Central 
or  *  long '  on  Reading,  and,  bless  you  !  he  must  strain 
every  fibre  if  he  would  save  himself  from  ruin. 

"  He  could  commune  with  you  in  your  youth,  you 
say;  he  had  your  language  then.  No  doubt !  no  doubt! 
so  did  he  then  know  his  Latin  and  whisper  his  prayers 
at  his  mother's  knee.    The  Latin  has  gone  ;  his  praying 


6  Four-in-Hand  in  Britain. 

continues — nay  has  increased,  for  his  fears  and  selfish 
wants  have  multiplied  since  he  was  an  innocent,  igno- 
rant child,  and  he  has  much  more  to  ask  from  God  for 
his  own  ends,  now  that  he  is  a  wise  man  and  is  sup- 
posed to  know  much  (chuckle — chuckle — chuckle). 

"  There  is  another  mortal,"  we  hear  the  Fate  saying 
to  the  Good  Fairy.  "  Look  at  her,  decked  out  in  all 
the  vagaries  of  changeable  Fashion ;  note  her  fixed-up 
look,  her  conventional  air,  her  nervous,  unmeaning,  sim- 
pering smile — the  same  to-day,  yesterday,  and  forever — 
something  to  all  men,  much  to  none.  See  her  at  home 
in  her  chamber !  Why  mopes  she,  looking  so  haggard, 
with  features  expressionless  and  inane  ?  What  worm 
gnaws  at  her  heart  and  makes  her  life  so  petty?  She, 
too,  came  into  the  world  a  bright  and  happy  thing, 
and  grew  up  fond  of  music  and  of  birds,  and  with  a 
passion  for  flowers  and  all  of  Nature's  sweets  ;  so  care- 
ful, too,  of  mother  and  of  father,  the  very  embodiment 
of  love  to  all  around  her.  You  should  have  seen  her 
in  her  teens,  a  glorious  ray  from  heaven — '  making 
a  sunshine  in  a  shady  place  '—so  natural,  so  hearty, 
with  a  carolling  laugh  like  the  falling  of  waters.  In 
her  most  secret  prayers  she  asked  only  for  a  kind 
lover  with  a  fair  competence,  that  they  might  live  mod- 
estly, without  ostentation.  She  was  a  good  girl  and  I 
granted  her  wish  and  more,"  says  Fate.  "  Her  air-castle 
was  small,  but  I  sent  her  a  magnificent  one.  She  is 
courted,  flattered,  has  every  gift  in  my  power  to  be- 


Air-Castles.  7 

stow  ;  yet  she  pines  in  the  midst  of  them.  The  fruits 
of  her  rare  gardens  have  no  flavor  for  her — Dead  Sea 
fruits  indeed,  which  fall  to  ashes  on  her  lips.  She  has 
entered  for  the  race  of  Fashion,  and  her  soul  is  ab- 
sorbed in  its  jealousies  and  disappointments.  You  may 
speak  to  her  as  of  old ;  tell  her  there  is  something  noble 
in  that  domain  of  human  life  where  duties  grow — 
something  not  only  beyond  but  different  from  Fashion, 
higher  than  dress  or  show.     She  understands  you  not. 

"  Hand  her  a  bunch  of  violets.  Does  she  learn 
their  lesson  with  their  odor  (which  her  dog  scents  as 
well  as  she)  ?  Comes  there  to  her  the  inner  meaning, 
the  scent  of  the  new-mown  hay  that  speaks  of  past 
hours  of  purity,  of  the  fresh  breeze  that  fanned  her 
cheek  in  childhood's  halcyon  days,  the  love  of  all 
things  of  the  green  earth  and  the  sense  of  the  goodness 
of  God  which  his  flowers  ever  hold  within  their  petals 
for  those  who  know  their  language  ?  '  They  will  deco- 
rate me  to-night  for  the  ball ! '  That  is  the  be-all  and 
the  end-all  of  her  ladyship's  love  for  flowers. 

"  Show  her  a  picture  with  more  of  heaven  than 
earth  in  it,  and  glimpses  of  the  light  that  never  shone 
on  sea  or  shore.  If  the  artist  be  in  fashion  she  will 
call  it  *  pretty,'  when  it  is  grand.  Give  her  music.  Is 
it  the  opera  ?  Oh  yes,  she  will  attend.  It  is  the  fash- 
ion. But  place  within  her  reach  the  soul-moving  orato- 
rio (with  more  religion  in  it  than  in  twenty  sermons)  or 
the  suggestive  symphony.     No,  a  previous  engagement 


8  Four-in-Hand  in  Britain. 

prevents.  Why,  just  think  of  it — one  caiit  talk  tJiere  ! 
Yet  this  woman  could  once  play  with  feeling  and  sing 
with  expression,  delighting  her  young  companions.  Of 
her  one  could  truly  say, 

"  '  Oh !  to  see  or  hear  her  singing  !  scarce  I  know  which  is  divinest — 
For  her  looks  sing  too — she  modulates  her  gestures  on  the  tune ; 
And  her  mouth  stirs  with  the  song,  like  song  ;  and  when  the 

notes  are  finest, 
'Tis  the  eyes  that  shoot  out  vocal  light,  and  seem  to  swell  them 
on.' 

And  now  she  has  fallen  to  this  !  " 

*'  Has  she  children  ?  "  inquires  the  Good  Spirit. 

**  No,"  says  Fate,  "  we  are  not  altogether  relentless. 
How  could  we  give  such  a  woman  children  and  look 
you  in  the  face  ?  It  is  sometimes  thought  necessary 
even  to  go  as  far  as  this,  but  in  such  cases  we  commend 
the  poor  infants  to  the  special  care  of  the  great  Father, 
for  mother  they  have  none.  But  look  !  there  is  a  man 
now  who  did  so  pray  for  a  son  and  heir  that  we  gave 
him  one,  and  yonder  goes  the  result.  God  in  heaven  ! 
why  are  men  so  rash  in  their  blindness  as  to  pray  for 
anything !     Surely  *  Thy  will  be  done  '  were  best. 

I  am  as  bad  as  Sterne  in  his  ''Sentimental  Jour- 
ney," and  will  never  get  on  at  this  rate.  I  started  to 
argue  that  the  Fates  were  too  kind  instead  of  not  kind 
enough  ;  at  least,  my  air-castles  have  ever  been  mere 
toys  compared  with  the  realities,  for  never  did  I  dream, 
in  my  wildest  days,  that  the  intended  drive  through 


Embarkation.  g 

Britain  would  assume  the  princely  proportions  of  a 
four-in-hand,  crowded  with  a  dozen  of  my  dearest 
friends.  A  modest  phaeton  or  wagonette  with  a  pair 
of  horses  was  the  extent  of  my  dream,  but  the  Fairy 
sent  me  four,  you  see,  and  two  friends  for  every  one  I 
had  pleased  myself  with  imagining  as  sure  to  take  the 
journey  with  me. 

But  now  to  a  sober  beginning  of  the  story  of  the 
coach.  It  was  in  the  leafy  month  of  June — the  very- 
first  day  thereof,  however — in  the  year  of  our  Lord 
1881,  that  the  good  ship  Bothnia  (Cunard  Line,  of 
course),  Captain  McMicken  (a  true  Scot  and  bold  Brit- 
ish sailor),  steamed  from  the  future  Metropolis  of  the 
World  for  the  shores  of  Merrie  England.  She  had 
many  passengers,  but  among  them  were  eleven  who 
outranked  all  others,  if  their  respective  opinions  of  each 
other  were  to  be  accepted  as  the  true  standard  of  judg- 
ment. I  had  received  for  many  months  before  the 
sweetest  pleasure  imaginable  in  startling  first  one  and 
then  another  with  requests  to  report  at  headquarters, 
Windsor  Hotel,  New  York,  May  31st,  prepared  to  em- 
bark. It  was  on  St.  Valentine's  Day  that  the  Prima 
Donna  received  a  missive  which  caused  her  young 
heart  to  flutter.  What  a  pretty  reply  came  !  Here  is 
a  short  extract : 

"  Three  months  to  dream  of  it  ;  three  months  to  live  in  it ;  and 
my  whole  lifetime  afterward  to  think  it  over.  I  am  the  happiest 
girl  alive,  only  sometimes  I  can't  believe  it's  all  going  to  happen." 


lo  Four-in-Haiid  in  Britain. 

To  Davenport,  Iowa,  went  another  invitation.  In 
due  time  came  a  return  missive  from  the  proud  City  of 
the  River : 

"  Will  I  go  to  Paradise  for  three  months  on  a  coach  ?  Agent 
of  Providence,  I  will !  " 

Isn't  it  glorious  to  make  one's  friends  so  happy? 


Harbor  of  New  York, 'June  i,  1881. ) 
On  board  Steamer  Bothnia.  \ 

Call  the  roll. 

Queen  Dowager,  Head  of  the  Clan  (no  Salic  Law  in 
our  family);  Miss  J.  J.  (Prima  Donna);  Miss  A.  F. 
(Stewardess);  Mr.  and  Mrs.  McC.  (Dainty  Davie);  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  K.  (Paisley  Troubadours)  ;  Mr.  B.  F.  V. 
(Vandy);  Mr.  H.  P.,  Jr.  (Our  Pard) ;  Mr.  G.  F.  McC. 
(General  Manager) ;  ten  in  all,  making,  together  with 
the  scribe,  the  All-coaching  Eleven. 

Ting-a-ling-a-ling !  The  tears  are  shed,  the  kisses 
ta'en.  The  helpless  hulk  breathes  the  breath  of  life. 
The  pulsations  of  its  mighty  heart  are  felt,  the  last 
rope  that  binds  us  to  land  cast  off;  and  now  see  the  hun- 
dreds of  handkerchiefs  waving  from  the  pier  fading  and 
fading  away.  But  note  among  the  wavers  one  slight 
graceful  figure  ;  Miss  C.  of  our  party,  present  in  spirit 
if  bodily  absent  on  duty,  much  to  the  regret  of  us  all. 
The  wavings  from  deck  to  shore  tell  our  friends 

"  how  slow  our  souls  sailed  on, 
How  fast  our  ship." 


On  the  Bothnia.  ii 

The  Bothnia  turned  her  face  to  the  east,  and  out 
upon  old  ocean's  gray  and  melancholy  waste  sailed  the 
Gay  Charioteers.  As  we  steamed  down  the  bay  three 
steamers  crowded  with  the  most  enterprising  of  Eu- 
rope's people  passed  us.  emigrants  coming  to  find  in 
the  bounteous  bosom  of  the  Great  Republic  the  bless- 
ings of  equality,  the  just  reward  of  honest  labor.  Ah, 
favored  land !  the  best  of  the  Old  World  seek  your 
shores  to  swell  to  still  grander  proportions  your  assured 
greatness.  That  all  come  only  for  the  material  benefits 
you  confer,  I  do  not  believe.  Crowning  these  material 
considerations,  I  insist  that  the  more  intelligent  of 
these  people  feel  the  spirit  of  true  manhood  stirring 
within  them,  and  glory  in  the  thought  that  they  are  to 
become  part  of  a  powerful  people,  of  a  government 
founded  upon  the  born  equality  of  man,  free  from  mili- 
tary despotism  and  class  distinctions.  There  is  a  trace 
of  the  serf  in  the  man  who  lives  contentedly  in  a  land 
with  ranks  above  him.  One  hundred  and  seventeen 
thousand  came  last  month,  and  the  cry  is  still  they 
come!  O  ye  self-constituted  rulers  of  men  in  Europe, 
know  you  not  that  the  knell  of  dynasties  and  of  rank  is 
sounding?  Are  you  so  deaf  that  you  do  not  hear  the 
thunders,  so  blind  that  you  do  not  see  the  lightnings 
which  now  and  then  give  warning  of  the  storm  that  is 
to  precede  the  reign  of  the  people  ? 

There  is  everything  in  the  way  one  takes  things. 
"  Whatever  is,  is  right,"  is  a  good  maxim  for  travellers 


12  Fouy-i7i-Hand  in  Britain. 

to  adopt,  but  the  Charioteers  improved  on  that.  The 
first  resolution  thcypassed  was,  "  Whatever  is,  is  love- 
ly ;  all  that  does  happen  and  all  that  doesn't  shall  be 
altogether  lovely."  We  shall  quarrel  with  nothing, 
admire  everything  and  everybody.  A  surly  beggar 
shall  afford  us  sport,  if  any  one  can  be  surly  under  our 
smiles ;  and  stale  bread  and  poor  fare  shall  only  serve 
to  remind  us  that  we  have  banqueted  at  the  Windsor. 
Even  no  dinner  at  all  shall  pass  for  a  good  joke.  Rain 
shall  be  hailed  as  good  for  the  growing  corn  ;  a  cold 
day  pass  as  invigorating,  a  warm  one  welcomed  as  sug- 
gestive of  summer  at  home,  and  even  a  Scotch  mist 
serve  to  remind  us  of  the  mysterious  ways  of  Provi- 
dence. In  this  mood  the  start  was  made.  Could  any 
one  suggest  a  better  for  our  purpose  ? 

Now  comes  a  splendid  place  to  skip — the  ocean 
voyage.  Everybody  writes  that  up  upon  the  first  trip, 
and  every  family  knows  all  about  it  from  the  long  de- 
scriptive letters  of  the  absent  one  doing  Europe. 

When  one  has  crossed  the  Atlantic  twenty  odd 
times  there  seems  just  about  as  much  sense  in  boring 
one's  readers  with  an  account  of  the  trip  as  if  the 
journey  were  by  rail  from  New  York  to  Chicago.  We 
had  a  fine,  smooth  run,  and  though  some  of  us  were  a 
trifle  distrait,  most  of  us  were  supremely  happy.  A 
sea  voyage  compared  with  land  travel  is  a  good  deal 
like  matrimony  compared  with  single  blessedness,  I 
take   it  :    either  decidedly  better  or   decidedly  worse. 


The  Atlantic.  13 

To  him  who  finds  himself  comfortable  at  sea,  the  ocean 
is  the  grandest  of  treats.  He  never  fails  to  feel  himself 
a  boy  again  while  on  the  waves.  There  is  an  exulta- 
tion about  it.  "  He  walks  the  monarch  of  the  peopled 
deck,"  glories  in  the  storm,  rises  with  and  revels  in  it. 
Heroic  song  comes  to  him.  The  ship  becomes  a  live 
thing,  and  if  the  monster  rears  and  plunges  it  is  akin 
to  bounding  on  his  thoroughbred  who  knows  its  rider. 
Many  men  feel  thus,  and  I  am  happily  of  them,  but 
the  ladies  who  are  at  their  best  at  sea  are  few. 

The  travellers,  however,  bore  the  journey  well, 
though  one  or  two  proved  indifferent  sailors.  One 
morning  I  had  to  make  several  calls  upon  members  be- 
low and  administer  my  favorite  remedy;  but  pale  and 
dejected  as  the  patients  were,  not  one  failed  to  smile  a 
ghastly  smile,  and  repeat  after  a  fashion  the  cabalistic 
words — "  Altogether  lovely." 

He  who  has  never  ridden  out  a  hurricane  on  the 
Atlantic  is  to  be  pitied.  It  seems  almost  ridiculous  to 
talk  of  storms  when  on  such  a  monster  as  the  Servia. 
Neptune  now  may  "  his  dread  trident  shake  "  and  only 
give  us  pleasure,  for  in  these  days  we  laugh  at  his  pre- 
tensions. Even  he  is  fast  going  the  way  of  all  kings, 
his  wildest  roar  being  about  on  a  par  with  the  last  Bull 
of  the  Pope,  to  which  we  listen  with  wonder  but  with- 
out fear. 

In  no  branch  of  human  progress  has  greater  advance 
been  made  within  the  past  twenty  years  than  in  ocean 


14  Four-in-Hand  in  Britain. 

navigation  by  steam  ;  not  so  much  in  the  matter  of 
speed  as  in  cost  of  transport.  The  Persia,  once  the 
best  ship  of  the  Cunard  Line,  required  an  expenditure 
of  thirty-five  dollars  as  against  her  successors'  one  dol- 
lar. The  Servia  will  carry  thirty-five  tons  across  the 
ocean  for  what  one  ton  cost  in  the  Persia.  A  revolu- 
tion indeed !  and  one  which  brings  the  products  of 
American  soil  close  to  the  British  shores.  Quite  re- 
cently flour  has  been  carried  from  Chicago  to  Liverpool 
for  forty-eight  cents  (2^.)  per  barrel.  The  farmer  of 
Illinois  is  as  near  the  principal  markets  of  Britain  as 
the  farmer  in  England  who  grows  his  crops  one  hun- 
dred miles  from  his  market  and  transports  by  rail  ;  and, 
in  return  for  this,  the  pig-iron  manufacturer  of  Britain 
is  as  near  the  New  York  market  as  is  his  competitor  on 
the  Hudson. 

Some  of  the  good  people  of  Britain  who  are  interest- 
ed in  land  believe  that  the  competition  of  America  has 
reached  its  height.     Deluded  souls,  it  has  only  begun! 

One  cannot  be  a  day  at  sea  without  meeting  the 
American  who  regrets  that  the  Stars  and  Stripes  have 
been  commercially  driven  from  the  ocean.  This  always 
reminds  me  of  a  fable  of  the  lion  and  the  turtle.  The 
lion  was  proudly  walking  along  the  shore,  the  real  king 
of  his  domain,  the  land.  The  turtle  mocked  him,  say- 
ing. Oh,  that's  nothing,  any  one  can  walk  on  land. 
Let's  see  you  try  it  in  the  water.  The  lion  tried.  Re- 
sult :  the  turtle  fed  upon  him  for  many  days.     America 


The  American  Navy.  15 

can    only   render  herself    ridiculous   by   entering    the 
water.     That  is  England's  domain. 

"  Her  home  is  on  the  mountain  wave, 
Her  march  is  o'er  the  deep." 

We  are  talking  just  now  about  building  some  ships 
for  a  proposed  American  Navy,  which  is  equivalent  to 
saying  that  we  are  going  to  furnish  ships  to  the  enemy, 
if  we  are  ever  foolish  enough  to  have  one — for  it  takes 
two  fools  to  wage  war.  Unless  America  resolves  to 
change  her  whole  policy  as  a  republic,  teaching  mankind 
the  victories  of  peace,  far  more  renowned  than  those  of 
war,  and  goes  back  to  the  ideas  of  monarchical  govern- 
ments, she  should  build  no  ships  of  war ;  but  if  she  will 
leave  her  unique  position  among  the  nations,  and  step 
down  to  the  level  of  quarrellers,  let  her  beat  the  navies 
of  Britain  and  France,  for  the  ships  of  a  weak  naval 
power  are  the  certain  prey  of  the  stronger  in  time  of 
war.     In  peace  they  are  useless. 

In  thinking  of  the  real  glories  of  America,  my  mind 
goes  first  to  this — that  she  has  no  army  worthy  of  the 
name,  and  scarcely  a  war  ship  of  whose  complete  in- 
efificiency  in  case  of  active  service  we  are  not  permitted 
to  indulge  the  most  sanguine  anticipations. 

What  has  America  to  do  following  in  the  wake  of 
brutal,  pugilistic  nations  still  under  the  influence  of 
feudal  institutions,  who  exhaust  their  revenues  training 
men  how  best  to  butcher  their  fellows,  and  in  building 


1 6  Four-in-Hand  in  Britain. 

up  huge  ships  for  purposes  of  destruction  !  No,  no,  let 
monarchies  play  this  game  as  long  as  the  people  toler- 
ate it,  but  for  the  Republic  ''  all  her  paths  are  peace," 
or  the  bright  hopes  which  the  masses  of  Europe  repose 
in  her  are  destined  to  a  sad  eclipse. 

Travellers  know  the  character  and  abilities  of  the 
men  in  charge  of  a  Cunard  ship,  but  have  they  ever 
considered  for  what  pittances  such  men  are  obtained  ? 
Captain,  $3,250  per  annum;  first  ofHcer,  $1,000;  second, 
third,  and  fourth  officers,  $600.  For  what  sum,  think 
you,  can  be  had  a  man  capable  of  controlling  the  pon- 
derous machinery'-  of  the  Servia  ?  Chief  engineeer, 
$1,250.  You  have  seen  the  firemen  at  work  down  be- 
low, perhaps.  Do  you  know  any  work  so  hard  as  this  ? 
Price  $30  per  month.  The  first  cost  of  a  steel  ship — 
and  it  is  scarcely  worth  while  in  these  days  to  think  of 
any  other  kind — is  about  one-half  on  the  Clyde  what  it 
is  on  the  Delaware.  Steel  can  be  made,  and  is  made,  in 
Britain  for  about  one  half  its  cost  here.  Not  in  our  day 
will  it  be  wise  for  America  to  leave  the  land.  It  is  a 
very  fair  division,  as  matters  stand — the  land  for  Amer- 
ica, the  sea  for  England. 


Friday,  June  10,  1881. 

Land  ahoy  !     There  it  was,  the  long  dark  low-lying 

cloud,  which  was  no  cloud,  but  the  outline  of  one  of  the 

most  unfortunate  of  lands — unhappy  Ireland,  cursed  by 

the  well-meaning  attempt  of  England  to  grow  English- 


Ireland.  1 7 

men  there.     England's  experience  north  of  the  Tweed 
should  have  taught  her  better. 

Conquerors  cannot  rule  as  conquerors  a  people  who 
have  parliamentary  institutions  and  publish  newspa- 
pers ;  and  neither  of  these  can  ever  be  taken  away 
from  Ireland.  They  always  come  to  stay.  You  may 
succeed  in  keeping  down  slaves  for  a  while,  but  then 
you  must  govern  them  as  slaves,  and  the  Irish  people 
have  advanced  beyond  this.  Just  in  proportion  as 
they  do  grow  less  like  serfs  and  more  like  men,  the 
impossibility  of  England's  governing  Ireland  must  grow 
likewise.  I  hear  some  Americans  reproaching  the  Irish 
people  for  rioting  and  fighting  so  much  ;  the  real  troub- 
le is  they  don't  fight  half  enough.  Take  my  own 
heroic  Scotland  ;  let  even  Mr.  Gladstone,  one  of  our- 
selves and  our  best  beloved,  send  an  Englishman  as 
Lord  Advocate  to  Scotland,  and  let  him  dare  pass  a 
measure  for  Scotland  in  Parliament  against  the  wishes 
of  the  Scotch  members,  and  all  the  uprisings  in  Ireland 
would  seem  like  farces  to  the  thorough  work  Scotland 
would  make  of  English  interference.  She  would  not 
stand  it  a  minute.  Neither  should  Ireland.  If  she 
has  the  elements  of  a  great  people  within  her  borders, 
she  will  never  submit.  In  less  than  a  generation  Ire- 
land can  be  made  as  loyal  a  member  of  the  British 
confederacy  as  Scotland  is ;  and  all  that  is  necessary  to 
produce  this  is  that  she  should  be  dealt  with  as  Eng- 
land has  to  deal  with  Scotland.     Let  the  Emerald  Isle, 


1 8  Fotir-in-Hand  in  Britain. 

then,  fight  against  the  attempted  dominion  of  England, 
as  Scotland  fought  against  it,  and  may  the  result  be 
the  same — that  Ireland  shall  govern  herself,  as  Scot- 
land does,  though  her  own  representatives  duly  elected 
by  the  people.  "  To  this  complexion  must  it  come  at 
last,"  and  the  sooner  the  better  for  all  parties  con- 
cerned. 

We  reached  Liverpool  Saturday  morning.  How 
pleasant  it  is  to  step  on  shore  in  a  strange  land  and  be 
greeted  by  kind  friends  on  the  quay  !  Their  welcome 
to  England  counted  for  so  much. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  P.  had  been  fellow  passengers.  A 
special  car  was  waiting  to  take  them  to  London,  but 
they  decided  not  to  go,  and  Mr.  P.  very  kindly  placed  it 
at  the  disposal  of  Mr.  J.  and  family  (who  were,  fortu- 
nately for  us,  also  fellow-passengers)  and  our  party,  so 
that  we  began  our  travelling  upon  the  other  side  under 
unexpectedly  favorable  conditions. 

To  such  of  the  party  as  were  getting  their  first 
glimpse  of  the  beautiful  isle,  the  journey  to  London 
seemed  an  awakening  from  happy  dreams.  They  had 
dreamed  that  England  looked  thus  and  thus,  and  now 
their  dreams  had  come  true.  The  scenery  of  the  Mid- 
land route  is  very  fine,  much  more  attractive  than  that 
of  the  other  line. 

The  party  spent  from  Saturday  until  Thursday  at 
the  Westminster  Hotel,  in  monster  London,  every  one 
beincf  free  to  do  what  most    interested   him  or    her. 


House  of  Commons.  19 

Groups  of  three  or  four  were  formed  for  this  purpose 
by  the  law  of  natural  selection,  but  the  roll  was  called 
for  breakfasts  and  dinners,  so  that  we  all  met  daily  and 
were  fully  advised  of  each  other's  movements. 

The  House  of  Commons  claimed  the  first  place  with 
our  party,  all  being  anxious  to  see  the  Mother  of  Par- 
liaments. It  is  not  so  easy  a  matter  to  do  this  as  to 
see  our  Congress  in  session ;  but  thanks  to  our  friend 
Mr.  R.  C.  and  to  others,  we  were  fortunate  in  being 
able  to  do  so  frequently.  Our  ladies  had  the  pleasure 
of  being  taken  into  the  Ladies'  Gallery  by  one  of  the 
rising  statesmen  of  England,  Sir  Charles  Dilke,  a  Cabi- 
net Minister,  and  one  who  has  had  the  boldness,  and  as 
I  think  the  rare  sagacity,  to  say  that  he  prefers  the  re- 
publican to  the  monarchical  system  of  government.  The 
world  is  to  hear  of  Sir  Charles  Dilke,  if  he  live  and 
health  be  granted  him,  and  above  all,  if  he  remain 
steadfast  to  his  honest  opinions.  So  many  public  men 
in  England  "  stoop  to  conquer,"  forgetting  that  what- 
ever else  they  may  conquer  thereafter  they  never  can 
conquer  that  i'/^?^'// that"  drags  down  their  life  "  ! 

We  really  heard  John  Bright  speak — the  one  of  all 
men  living  whom  our  party  wished  most  to  see  and  to 
hear.  I  had  not  forgotten  hearing  him  speak  in  Dun- 
fermline, when  I  was  seven  years  of  age,  and  well  do  I 
remember  that  when  I  got  home  I  told  mother  he 
made  one  mistake  ;  for  when  speaking  of  Mr.  Smith 
(the  Liberal  candidate)  he  called  him  a  men,  instead  of 


20  Four-m-Hand  i7i  Britain. 

a  maan.  When  introduced  to  Mr.  Bright  I  was  de. 
lighted  to  find  that  he  had  not  forgotten  DunfermHne, 
nor  the  acquaintances  he  had  made  there. 

A  grand  character,  that  of  the  sturdy  Quaker ;  once 
the  best  hated  man  in  Britain,  but  one  to  whom  both 
continents  are  now  glad  to  confess  their  gratitude.  He 
has  been  wiser  than  his  generation,  but  has  lived  to  see 
it  grow  up  to  him.  Certainly  no  American  can  look 
down  from  the  gallery  upon  that  white  head  with- 
out beseeching  heaven  to  shower  its  choicest  bless- 
ings upon  it.  He  spoke  calmly  upon  the  Permissive 
Liquor  Bill,  and  gave  the  ministerial  statement  in  re- 
gard to  it.  All  he  said  was  good  common  sense  ;  we 
could  do  something  by  regulating  the  traffic  and  con- 
fining it  to  reasonable  hours,  but  after  all  the  great  cure 
must  come  from  the  better  (Education  of  the  masses, 
who  must  be  brought  to  feel  that  it  is  unworthy  of 
their  manhood  to  brutalize  themselves  with  liquor. 
England  has  set  herself  at  last  to  the  most  important  of 
all  work — the  thorough  education  of  her  people  ;  and 
we  may  confidently  expect  to  see  a  great  improvement 
in  their  habits  in  the  next  generation.  My  plan  for 
mastering  the  monster  evil  of  intemperance  is  that  our 
temperance  societies,  instead  of  pledging  men  never  to 
taste  alcoholic  beverages,  should  be  really  temperance 
agencies  and  require  their  members  to  use  them  only  at 
meals — never  to  drink  wines  or  spirits  without  eating. 
The  man  who  takes  one  glass  of  wine,  or  beer,  or  spirits 


Tcmpera7ice.  21 

at  dinner  is  clearly  none  the  worse  for  it.  I  judge  that 
if  the  medical  fraternity  were  polled,  a  large  majority 
would  say  he  was  the  better  for  it,  at  least  after  a  cer- 
tain age.  Why  can't  we  recognize  the  fact  that  all 
races  indulge  in  stimulants  and  will  continue  to  do  so  ? 
It  is  the  regulation,  not  the  eradication,  of  this  appetite 
that  is  practical.  The  coming  man  is  to  consider  it  low 
to  walk  up  to  a  bar  and  gulp  down  liquor.  The  race 
will  come  to  this  platform  generations  before  they  will 
accept  that  of  Sir  Wilfrid  Lawson  and  his  total  absti- 
nence ideas. 

This  was  written  before  the  Church  of  England 
movement  in  this  direction  was  known  to  me.  Much 
good  must  come  of  its  efforts ;  but  I  confess  I  should 
like  to  see  that  church  show  that  it  is  in  earnest  by  re- 
moving the  deep  reproach  cast  upon  it  by  recent  state- 
ments, which  pass  uncontradicted.  Listen  to  this 
startling  announcement :  This  holy  Church  of  England, 
mark  you,  is  the  largest  owner  of  gin  palaces  in  the 
world.  The  head  of  the  church,  the  Archbishop  of  Can- 
terbury, in  passing  from  his  palace  at  Lambeth  to  his 
abbey  at  Westminster,  sees  more  than  one  hundred  (I 
believe  I  understate  the  case)  gin  palaces  which  his 
church  owns  and  has  rented  for  such  purposes ;  nay,  it 
is  shown  that  the  church  has  always  raised  the  rents  of 
these  houses,  with  which  licenses  go,  as  the  sales  of 
liquor  have  increased  ;  so  that  her  interest  lies  in  ex- 
tending the  use  of  liquors  as  a  beverage  secretly  upon 


22  Four-in-Hand  in  Britain-. 

one  hand,  while  she  poses  before  the  world  as  laboring 
to  restrict  the  curse  with  the  other.  Her  right  hand 
knows  only  too  well  what  her  left  hand  doeth.  It  does 
seem  that  the  mere  announcement  of  such  a  fact  would 
work  its  own  remedy — perhaps  it  will  when  its  holy 
fathers  are  done  with  the  vastly  more  important  busi- 
ness of  determining  the  size  and  shape  of  vestures,  or 
the  number  of  candles,  or  the  posture  of  the  priest 
most  pleasing  to  God — but  before  the  church  can  fig- 
ure as  much  of  an  agency  in  the  cause  of  temperance 
reform,  it  will  have  to  wash  its  hands  of  its  hundred  gin 
palaces. 

The  article  in  Harper  s  Magazine  upon  Bedford 
Square,  giving  glowing  accounts  of  this  Arcadian  col- 
ony, with  its  aesthetic  homes,  its  Tabard  Inn,  and  its 
club,  made  us  all  desire  to  visit  it.  We  did  so  one 
afternoon,  and  received  a  very  cordial  welcome  from 
Mrs.  C.  in  the  absence  of  her  husband.  She  kindly 
showed  us  the  grounds  and  explained  all  to  us.  Truth 
compels  me  to  say  we  were  sadly  disappointed,  but  for 
this  we  had  probably  only  ourselves  to  blame.  It  is  so 
natural  to  imagine  that  exquisite  wood-cuts  and  pretty 
illustrations  set  forth  grander  things  than  exist. 
The  houses  were  much  inferior  to  our  preconceived 
ideas,  and  many  had  soft  woods  painted,  and  most  of 
the  cheap  shams  of  ordinary  structures.  The  absence 
of  grand  trees,  shady  dells,  and  ornamental  grounds, 
and  the  exceedingly  cheap  and  cheap-looking  houses 


Stafford  House.  23 

made  all  seem  like  a  new  settlement  in  the  Far  West 
rather  than  the  latest  development  of  culture.  From 
this  criticism  Mr,  C.'s  own  pretty  little  home  is  wholly 
exempt,  and  no  doubt  there  are  many  other  homes 
there  equally  admirable.  I  speak  only  of  the  general 
impression  made  upon  our  party  by  a  very  hasty  visit. 
Bedford  Park  is  no  doubt  an  excellent  idea,  and  des- 
tined to  do  much  good,  only  it  is  different  from  what 
we  had  expected. 

Extremes  meet.  It  was  from  houses  such  as  I  have 
spoken  of  that  we  went  direct  to  Stafford  House,  to 
meet  the  Marquis  of  Stafford  by  appointment,  and  to 
be  shown  over  that  palace  by  him.  What  a  change ! 
If  the  former  were  not  up  to  our  expectations,  this 
exceeded  them.  I  don't  suppose  any  one  ever  has 
expected  to  see  such  a  staircase  as  enchants  him^ 
upon  entering  Stafford  House.  This  is  the  most  mag- 
nificent residence  any  of  us  has  ever  seen.  I  will  not 
trust  myself  to  speak  of  its  beauties,  nor  of  the  treas- 
ures it  contains.  One  begins  to  understand  to  what 
the  Marquis  of  Stafford  is  born.  The  Sutherland  fam- 
ily have  a  million  two  hundred  thousand  acres  of  land 
in  Britain  ;  no  other  family  in  the  world  compares  with 
them  as  landowners.  It  is  positively  startling  to  think 
of  it.  Almost  the  entire  County  of  Sutherland  is  theirs. 
Stafford  House  is  their  London  residence.  They 
have  Trentham  Hall  and  Lillieshall  in  Mid-England, 
and  glorious  Dunrobin  Castle  in  Scotland. 


24  Four-in-Hand  in  Britain. 

The  Marquis  sits  in  the  House  of  Commons  as 
member  for  Sutherland  County ;  and  what  do  you 
think  !  he  is  a  painstaking  director  of  the  London  and 
North-Western  Railway,  and  I  am  informed  pays  strict 
attention  to  its  affairs.  The  Duke  of  Devonshire  is 
Chairman  of  the  Barrow  Steel  Company.  Lord  Gran- 
ville has  iron  works,  and  Earl  Dudley  is  one  of  the 
principal  iron  manufacturers  of  England.  It  is  all 
right,  you  see,  my  friends,  to  be  a  steel-rail  manufac- 
turer or  an  iron-master.  How  fortunate !  But  the 
line  must  be  drawn  somewhere,  and  we  draw  it  at 
trade.  The  A.  T.  Stewarts  and  the  Morrisons  have  no 
standing  in  society  in  England.  They  are  in  vulgar 
trade.  Now  if  they  brewed  beer,  for  instance,  they 
would  be  somebodies,  and  might  confidently  look  for- 
ward to  a  baronetcy  at  least ;  for  a  great  deal  of  beer 
a  peerage  is  not  beyond  reach. 

We  heard  a  performance  of  the  "  Messiah "  in 
Albert  Hall,  which  the  Prima  Donna  agreed  with  me 
was  better  in  two  important  particulars  than  any  simi- 
lar performance  we  had  heard  in  America.  First  in 
vigor  of  attack  by  the  chorus ;  this  was  superb  ;  from  the 
first  instant  the  full  volume  and  quality  of  sound  were 
perfect.  The  other  point  was  that  all-important  one  of 
enunciation.  We  have  no  chorus  in  New  York  which 
rivals  what  we  heard,  though  we  have  an  orchestra 
which  is  equal  to  any.  The  words  were,  of  course, 
familiar,  and  we  could  scarcely  judge  whether  we  were 


Parliament.  25 

correct  in  our  impression,  but  we  believed  that  even 
had  they  been  strange  to  us  we  could  nevertheless  have 
understood  every  word.  Since  my  return  to  New  York 
I  have  heard  this  oratorio  given  by  the  Oratorio  So- 
ciety, and  am  delighted  to  note  that  Dr.  Damrosch  has 
greatly  improved  his  chorus  in  this  respect ;  but  the  Eng- 
lish do  pronounce  perfectly  in  singing.  This  opinion 
was  confirmed  by  the  music  subsequently  heard  in 
various  places  throughout  our  travels.  In  public  as 
well  as  in  private  singing  the  purity  of  enunciation 
struck  us  as  remarkable.  If  I  ever  set  up  for  a  music 
teacher  I  shall  bequeath  to  my  favorite  pupil  as  the 
secret  of  success  but  one  word,  "  emmciationy 

Some  of  us  went  almost  every  day  to  Westminster, 
but  dancing  attendance  upon  Parliament  is  much  like 
doing  so  upon  Congress.  The  interesting  debates  are 
few  and  far  between.  The  daily  routine  is  uninterest- 
ing, and  one  sees  how  rapidly  all  houses  of  legislation 
are  losing  their  hold  upon  public  attention.  A  debate 
upon  the  propriety  of  allowing  Manchester  to  dispose 
of  her  sewage  to  please  herself,  or  of  permitting  Dun- 
fermline to  bring  in  a  supply  of  water,  seems  such  a 
waste  of  time.  The  Imperial  Parliament  of  Great 
Britain  is  much  in  want  of  something  to  do  when  it 
condescends  to  occupy  its  time  with  trifling  questions 
which  the  community  interested  can  best  settle ;  but 
even  in  matters  of  national  importance  debates  are 
no  longer  what  they  were.     The  questions  have  already 


26  Four-in-Hand  in  Brilain. 

been  threshed  out  in  the  Reviews — those  coming  forums 
of  discussion — and  all  that  can  be  said  already  said  by 
writers  upon  both  sides  of  the  question  who  know  its 
bearings  much  better  than  the  leaders  of  party.  When 
the  FortnigJitly  or  the  Niyieteenth  Cc7iitiry  gets  through 
with  a  subject  the  Prime  Minister  only  rises  to  sum  up 
the  result  at  which  the  Morleys  and  Rogerses,  the 
Spencers  and  Huxleys,  the  Giffens  and  Howards  have 
previously  arrived. 

The  English  are  prone  to  contrast  the  men  of 
America  and  England  who  are  in  political  life,  and  the 
balance  is  no  doubt  greatly  in  their  favor.  But  the 
reason  lies  upon  the  surface:  America  has  solved  the 
fundamental  questions  of  government,  and  no  changes 
are  desired  of  sufficient  moment  to  engage  the  minds  of 
her  ablest  men.  During  the  civil  war,  when  new  issues 
arose  and  had  to  be  met,  the  men  who  stepped  forward 
to  guide  the  nation  were  of  an  entirely  different  class 
from  those  prominent  in  politics  cither  before  or  since. 
Contrast  the  men  of  Buchanan's  administration  with 
those  the  war  called  to  the  front — Lincoln,  Seward,  Stan- 
ton, Sumner,  Edmunds,  Morton,  or  the  generals  of  that 
time,  with  Grant,  Sherman,  Sheridan,  Hancock.  All  of 
these  men  I  have  known  well,  except  one  or  two  of  the 
least  prominent.  I  have  met  some  of  the  best  known 
politicians  in  England.  Compared  morally  or  intellect- 
ually, I  do  not  think  there  is  much,  if  any,  difference 
between   them ;   while    for   original   creative   power   I 


Parliament.  2  7 

believe  the  Americans  superior.  That  a  band  of  men 
so  remarkable  as  to  cause  surprise  to  other  nations  will 
promptly  arise  whenever  there  is  real  work  to  do,  no 
one  who  knows  the  American  people  can  doubt ;  but  no 
man  of  real  ability  is  going  to  spend  his  energies 
endeavoring  to  control  appointments  to  the  New  York 
Custom  House,  any  more  than  he  will  continue  very 
long  to  waste  his  time  discussing  Manchester  sewage. 
Much  as  my  English  friends  dislike  to  believe  it,  I  tell 
them  that  when  there  is  really  no  great  work  to  be 
done,  when  the  conflict  between  feudal  and  democratic 
ideas  ends,  as  it  is  fast  coming  to  an  end,  and  there 
is  no  vestige  of  privilege  left  from  throne  to  knight- 
hood, only  vain,  weak  men  will  seek  election  to  Par- 
liament, and  such  will  stand  ready  to  do  the  bidding  of 
the  constituencies  as  our  agents  in  Congress  do.  But 
this  need  not  alarm  our  English  friends ;  there  will 
then  be  much  less  bribery  before  election  and  much 
less  succumbing  to  social  court  influences  after  it. 
The  brains  of  a  country  will  be  found  where  the  real 
work  is  to  do.  The  House  of  Lords  registers  the 
decrees  of  the  House  of  Commons.  The  House  of 
Commons  is  soon  to  register  the  decrees  of  the  month- 
lies. Both  these  things  may  be  pronounced  good.  In 
the  next  generation  the  debates  of  Parliament  will 
affect  the  political  currents  of  the  age  as  little  as  the 
fulminations  of  the  pulpit  affect  religious  thought  at 
present ;  and  then  a  man  who  feels  he  has  real  power 


28  Four-in-Hand  in  Britain. 

Avithin  him  will  think  of  entering  Parliament  about 
as  soon  as  he  would  think  of  entering  the  House  of 
Lords  or  the  American  Congress. 

"  The  parliament  of  man,  the  federation  of  the  world," 

comes  on  apace ;  but  its  form  is  to  be  largely  imper- 
sonal. The  press  is  the  universal  parliament.  The 
leaders  in  that  forum  make  your  *'  statesman  "  dance  as 
they  pipe. 

The  same  law  is  robbing  the  pulpit  of  real  power. 
Who  cares  what  the  Reverend  Mr.  Froth  preaches  now- 
adays, when  he  ventures  beyond  the  homilies  ?  Three 
pages  by  Professor  Robertson  Smith  in  the  "  Encyclo- 
paedia Britannica  "  destroy  more  theology  in  an  hour 
than  all  the  preachers  in  the  land  can  build  up  in  a  life- 
time. If  any  man  wants  bona  fide  substantial  power 
and  influence  in  this  world,  he  must  handle  the  pen — 
that's  flat.  Truly,  it  is  a  nobler  weapon  than  the  sword, 
and  a  much  nobler  one  than  the  tongue,  both  of  which 
have  nearly  had  their  day. 

We  had  a  happy  luncheon  with  our  good  friends  the 
C.'s,  one  of  our  London  days;  and  some  of  our  party 
who  had  heard  that  there  was  not  a  great  variety  of 
edibles  in  England  saw  reason  to  revise  their  ideas. 
Another  day  we  had  a  notable  procession  for  miles 
through  London  streets  and  suburbs  to  the  residence 
of  our  friend,  Mr.  B.  Five  hansoms  in  line  driven  pell- 
mell  reminded  me  of  our  Tokio  experiences  with  gin- 
rikshaws,  two  Bettos  tandem  in  each. 


The  Stars  and  Stripes,  2g 

It  was  a  pretty,  graceful  courtesy,  my  friend,  to  dis- 
play from  the  upper  window  the  "  Stars  and  Stripes," 
in  honor  of  the  arrival  of  your  American  guests,  and 
prettier  still  to  have  across  your  hall  as  a  portiere, 
under  which  all  must  bow  as  they  entered,  that  flag 
which  tells  of  a  government  founded  upon  the  born 
equality  of  man.  Thanks  !  Such  things  touch  the 
heart  as  well  as  the  patriotic  chord  which  vibrates  in 
the  breast  of  every  one  so  fortunate  as  to  claim  that 
glorious  standard  as  the  emblem  of  the  land  he  fondly 
calls  his  own.  Colonel  Robert  Ingersoll,  that  wonderful 
orator,  says  that  when  abroad,  after  a  long  interval,  he 
saw  in  one  of  the  seaports  the  Stars  and  Stripes  flutter- 
ing in  the  breeze,  "  he  felt  the  air  had  blossomed  into 
joy."  It  was  he  too  who  told  the  South  long  ago  that 
"  there  wasn't  air  enough  upon  the  American  continent 
to  float  two  flags."     Right  there,  Colonel! 

Do  you  know  why  the  American  worships  the  starry 
banner  with  a  more  intense  passion  than  even  the  Brit- 
on does  his  flag?  I  will  tell  you.  It  is  because  it  is  not 
the  flag  of  a  government  which  discriminates  between 
her  children,  decreeing  privilege  to  one  and  denying  it 
to  another,  but  the  flag  of  the  people  which  gives  the 
same  rights  to  all.  The  British  flag  was  born  too  soon 
to  be  close  to  the  masses.  It  came  before  their  time, 
when  they  had  little  or  no  power.  They  were  not  con- 
sulted about  it.  Some  conclave  made  it,  as  a  pope  is 
made,  and  handed  it  down  to  the  nation.      But  the 


30  Four-in-Hand  in  Britain. 

American  flag  bears  in  every  fibre  the  warrant,  "  We  the 
People  in  Congress  assembled."  It  is  their  own  child, 
and  how  supremely  it  is  beloved  ! 

It  is  a  significant  fact  that  in  no  riot  or  local  out- 
break have  soldiers  of  the  United  States,  bearing  the 
national  flag,  ever  been  assaulted.  Militia  troops  have 
sometimes  been  stoned,  but  United  States  troops  never. 
During  the  worst  riot  ever  known  in  America,  that  in 
our  own  good  city  of  Pittsburgh,  Pennsylvania,  twenty- 
eight  United  States  soldiers,  all  there  were  in  the  bar- 
racks, marched  through  the  thousands  of  excited  men 
unmolested.  I  really  believe  that  had  any  man  in  the 
crowd  dared  to  touch  that  flag,  General  Dix's  famous 
order  would  have  been  promptly  enforced  by  his  com- 
panions. Major-General  Hancock  recently  told  me  that 
he  had  never  known  United  States  soldiers  to  be  at- 
tacked by  citizens.  He  was  in  command  of  the  troops 
during  the  riots  in  the  coal  regions  in  Pennsylvania  some 
years  ago,  and  whenever  a  body  of  his  regulars  ap- 
peared they  were  respected  and  peace  reigned. 

General  Dix's  order  was,  "  If  any  man  attempts  to 
pull  down  the  flag  shoot  him  on  the  spot."  So  say  we 
all  of  us.  And  it  will  be  the  same  in  Britain  some  day, 
ay  and  in  Ireland  too,  when  an  end  has  been  made  of 
privilege  and  there  is  not  a  government  and  a  people, 
but  only  a  government  of  the  people,  for  the  people, 
and  by  the  people.  The  day  is  not  so  far  off  either  as 
some  of  you  think,  mark  me. 


Brighton.  3 1 

But  good-bye,  London,  and  all  the  thoughts  which 
crowd  upon  one  when  in  your  mighty  whirl.  You  mon- 
ster London,  we  are  all  glad  to  escape  you  !  But  ere 
we  "gang  awa' "  shall  we  not  note  our  visit  to  one  we 
are  proud  to  call  our  friend,  and  of  whom  Scotland  is 
proud,  Dr.  Samuel  Smiles,  a  writer  of  books  indeed — 
books  which  influence  his  own  generation  much,  and 
the  younger  generation  more.    Burns's  wish  was  that  he, 

"  For  poor  auld  Scotland's  sake, 
Some  useful  plan  or  book  could  make, 
Or  sing  a  sang  at  least." 

Well,  the  Doctor  has  made  several  books  that  are  books, 
and  I  have  heard  him  sing  a  song,  too,  for  the  days  of 
Auld  Lang  Syne.  May  he  live  long,  and  long  may  his 
devoted  wife  be  spared  to  watch  over  him  ! 


Thursday  Morning,  June  16,  1881. 

We  are  off  for  Brighton.  Mr.  and  Miss  B.  ac- 
company us.  Mr.  and  Mrs,  K.  have  run  up  to 
Paisley  with  the  children,  and  Mr.  and  Mrs.  G.  have 
joined  us  in  their  place.  The  coach,  horses,  and  ser- 
vants went  down  during  the  night. 

We  had  time  to  visit  the  unequalled  aquarium  and 
to  do  the  parade  before  dinner.  Miss  F.  and  I  stole 
off  to  make  a  much  more  interesting  visit ;  we  called 
upon  William  Black,  whose  acquaintance  I  had  been 


32  Foicr-in-Hand  in  Bj'-itain. 

fortunate  enough  to  make  in  Rome,  and  whom  I  had 
told  that  I  should  some  day  imitate  his  "  Adventures 
of  a  Phaeton."  A  week  before  we  sailed  from  New 
York,  I  had  dined  with  President  Garfield  at  Secretary 
Blaine's  in  Washington.  After  dinner,  conversation 
turned  upon  my  proposed  journey,  and  the  President 
became  much  interested.  "  It  is  the  'Adventures  of  a 
Phaeton '  on  a  grand  scale,"  he  remarked.  "  By  the 
way,  has  Black  ever  written  any  other  story  quite  so 
good  as  that?  I  do  not  think  he  has."  In  this  there 
was  a  general  concurrence.  He  then  said :  "  But  I  am 
provoked  with  Black  just  now.  A  man  who  whites  to 
entertain  has  no  right  to  end  a  story  as  miserably  as  he 
has  done  that  of  *  MacLeod  of  Dare.'  Fiction  should 
give  us  the  bright  side  of  existence.  Real  life  has  trag- 
edies enough  of  its  ownr 

A  few  weeks  more  and  we  were  to  have  in  his  own 
case  the  most  terrible  proof  of  the  words  he  had 
spoken  so  solemnly.  I  can  never  forget  the  sad,  care- 
worn expression  of  his  face  as  he  uttered  them. 

"  But  come  it  soon  or  come  it  fast, 
It  is  but  death  that  comes  at  last." 

One  might  almost  be  willing  to  die  if,  as  in  Garfield's 
case,  there  should  flash  from  his  grave,  at  the  touch 
of  a  mutual  sorrow,  to  both  divisions  of  the  great 
English-speaking  race,  the  knowledge  that  they  are 
brothers.     This  discovery  will  bear  good  fruit  in  time. 


William  Black.  33 

"  Nothing  in  his  life  became  him  like  the  leaving  it." 

Garfield's  life  was  not  in  vain.  It  tells  its  own 
story — this  poor  boy  toiling  upward  to  the  proudest 
position  on  earth,  the  elected  of  fifty  millions  of  free- 
men ;  a  position  compared  with  which  that  of  king  or 
kaiser  is  as  nothing.  Let  other  nations  ask  themselves 
where  are  oiir  Lincolns  and  Garfields  ?  Ah,  they  grow 
not  except  where  all  men  are  born  equal !  The  cold 
shade  of  aristocracy  nips  them  in  the  bud. 

Mr.  Black  came  to  see  us  off,  but  arrived  at  our 
starting-place  a  few  minutes  too  late.  A  thousand 
pities !  Had  we  only  known  that  he  intended  to  do  us 
this  honor,  until  high  noon,  ay,  and  till  dewy  eve, 
would  we  have  waited.  Just  think  of  our  start  being 
graced  by  the  author  of  "  The  Adventures  of  a  Phae- 
ton," and  we  privileged  to  give  him  three  rousing 
cheers  as  our  horn  sounded !  Though  grieved  to  miss 
him,  it  was  a  consolation  to  know  that  he  had  come, 
and  we  felt  that  his  spirit  was  with  us  and  dwelt  with 
us  during  the  entire  journey.  Many  a  time  the  in- 
cidents of  his  charming  story  came  back  to  us,  but  I 
am  sorry  to  record,  as  a  faithful  chronicler,  that  we 
young  people  missed  one  of  its  most  absorbing  feat- 
ures— we  had  no  lovers.  At  least,  I  am  not  apprized 
that  any  engagements  were  made  upon  the  journey, 
although,  for  my  part,  I  couldn't  help  falling  in  love 
just  a  tiny  bit  with  the  charming  young  ladies  who  de- 
lighted us  with  their  company. 


34  Four-in-Hand  in  Britain. 

Brighton,  Friday  Morning,  June  17. 

Let  us  call  the  roll  once  more  at  the  door  of  the 
Grand  Hotel,  Brighton,  that  our  history  may  be  com- 
plete :  Mr.  and  Mrs.  B.,  London  ;  Mr.  and  Mrs.  T.  G., 
Wolverhampton;  Miss  M.  L.,  Dunfermline;  Miss  E.  F., 
Liverpool ;  Mr.  and  Mrs.  McC,  Miss  J.  J.,  Miss  A.  F., 
Mr.  B.  F.  v.,  Mr.  H.  P.,  Jr.,  Mr.  G.  F.  McC,  the  Queen 
Dowager  and  the  Scribe.  These  be  the  names  of  the 
new  and  delectable  order  of  the  Gay  Charioteers,  who 
mounted  their  coach  at  Brighton  and  began  the  long 
journey  to  the  North  Countrie  on  the  day  and  date 
aforesaid.  And  here,  O  my  good  friends,  let  me  say 
that  until  a  man  has  stood  at  the  door  and  seen  his 
own  four-in-hand  drive  up  before  him,  the  horses — four 
noble  bays — champing  the  bits,  their  harness  buckles 
glistening  in  the  sun  ;  the  coach  spick  and  span  new 
and  as  glossy  as  a  mirror,  with  the  coachman  on  the 
box  and  the  footman  behind ;  and  then,  enchanted,  has 
called  to  his  friends,  "  Come,  look,  there  it  is,  just  as  I 
had  pictured  it ! "  and  has  then  seen  them  mount  to 
their  places  with  beaming  faces — until,  as  I  say,  he  has 
had  that  experience,  don't  tell  me  that  he  has  known 
the  most  exquisite  sensation  in  life,  for  I  know  he 
hasn't.  It  was  Izaak  Walton,  I  believe,  who  when 
asked  what  he  considered  the  most  thrilling  sensation 
in  life,  answered  that  he  supposed  it  was  the  tug  of  a 
thirty-pound  salmon.  Well,  that  was  not  a  bad  guess. 
I  have  taken  the  largest  trout  of  the  season  on  bonnie 


The  Supreme  Moment.  35 

Loch  Leven,  have  been  drawn  over  Spirit  Lake  in 
Iowa  in  my  skiff  for  half  an  hour  by  a  monster  pickerel, 
and  have  played  with  the  speckled  beauties  in  Dead 
River,  It  is  glorious;  making  a  hundred  thousand  is 
nothing  to  it  ;  but  there's  a  thrill  beyond  that,  my  dear 
old  quaint  Izaak.  I  remember  in  one  of  my  sweet 
strolls  "  ayont  the  wood  mill  braes  "  with  a  great  man, 
my  Uncle  Bailie  M. — and  I  treasure  the  memory  of 
these  strolls  as  among  the  chief  of  my  inheritance — this 
very  question  came  up.  I  asked  him  what  he  thought 
the  most  thrilling  thing  in  life.  He  mused  awhile,  as 
was  the  Bailie's  wont,  and  I  said,  "  I  think  I  can  tell 
you.  Uncle."  "  What  is  it  then,  Andrea  ? "  (Not 
Avid-rew  for  the  world.)  "  Well,  Uncle,  I  think  that 
when,  in  making  a  speech,  one  feels  himself  lifted,  as 
it  were,  by  some  divine  power  into  regions  beyond  him- 
self, in  which  he  seems  to  soar  without  effort,  and  swept 
by  enthusiasm  into  the  expression  of  some  burning 
truth,  which  has  lain  brooding  in  his  soul,  throwing 
policy  and  prudence  to  the  winds,  he  feels  words  whose 
eloquence  surprises  himself,  burning  hot,  hissing  through 
him  like  molten  lava  coursing  the  veins,  he  throws  it 
forth,  and  panting  for  breath  hears  the  quick,  sharp, 
explosive  roar  of  his  fellow-men  in  thunder  of  assent, 
the  precious  moment  which  tells  him  that  the  audience 
is  his  own,  but  one  soul  in  it  and  that  his ;  I  think  this 
the  supreme  moment  of  life."  "  Go  !  Andrea,  ye've  hit 
it!"  cried  the  Bailie,  and  didn't  the  dark  eye  sparkle! 


36  Four-in-Ha7id  in  Britain. 

He  had  felt  this  often,  had  the  Baihe ;  his  nephew  had 
only  now  and  then  been  near  enough  to  imagine  the 
rest. 

The  happiness  of  giving  happiness  is  far  sweeter  than 
the  pleasure  direct,  and  I  recall  no  moments  of  my  life 
in  which  the  rarer  pleasure  seemed  to  suffuse  my  whole 
heart  as  when  I  stood  at  Brighton  and  saw  my  friends 
take  their  places  that  memorable  morning.  In  this 
variable,  fantastic  climate  of  Britain  the  weather  is  ever 
a  source  of  solicitude.  What  must  it  have  been  to  me, 
when  a  good  start  was  all  important!  I  remember  I 
awoke  early  in  the  morning  and  wondered  whether 
it  was  sunny  or  rainy.  If  a  clear  day  could  have  been 
purchased,  it  would  have  been  obtained  at  almost  any 
outlay.  I  could  easily  tell  our  fate  by  raising  the  win- 
dow-blind, but  I  philosophically  decided  that  it  was 
best  to  lie  still  and  take  what  heaven  might  choose 
to  send  us.  I  should  know  soon  enough.  If  rain  it 
was,  I  could  not  help  it ;  if  fair,  it  was  glorious.  But 
let  me  give  one  suggestion  to  those  who  in  England 
are  impious  enough  to  ask  heaven  to  change  its  plans  : 
don't  ask  for  dry  weather  ;  always  resort  to  that  last 
extremity  when  it  is  "  a  drizzle-drozzle  "  you  wish. 
Your  supplications  are  so  much  more  likely  to  be  an- 
swered, you  know. 

There  never  was  a  lovelier  morning  in  England 
than  that  which  greeted  me  when  I  pulled  up  the 
heavy  Venetian  blind  and  gazed  on  the  rippling  sea 


The  Start.  2)7 

before  me,  with  its  hundreds  of  pretty  little  sails.  I 
repeated  to  myself  these  favorite  lines  as  I  stood  en- 
tranced : 

"  The  Bridegroom  Sea  is  toying  "with  the  shore, 
His  wedded  bride  ;  and  in  the  fulness  of  his  marriage  joy- 
He  decorates  her  tawny  brow  with  shells, 
Retires  a  space  to  see  how  fair  she  looks, 
Then  proud  runs  up  to  kiss  her." 

That  is  what  old  ocean  was  doing  that  happy  morn 
ing.  I  saw  him  at  it,  and  I  felt  that  if  all  created 
beings  had  one  mouth  I  should  like  to  kiss  them  too. 

All  seated  !  The  Queen  Dowager  next  the  coach- 
man, and  I  at  her  side.  The  horn  sounds,  the  crowd 
cheers,  and  we  are  off.  A  mile  or  two  are  traversed 
and  there  is  a  unanimous  verdict  upon  one  point — this 
suits  us !  Finer  than  we  had  dreamt  !  As  we  pass 
the  pretty  villas  embossed  in  flowers  and  vines  and  all 
that  makes  England  the  home  of  happy  homes,  there 
comes  the  sound  of  increasing  exclamations.  How 
pretty  !  Oh,  how  beautiful  !  See,  see,  the  roses  !  oh 
the  roses!  Look  at  that  lawn  !  How  lovely!  Enchant- 
ing !  entrancing  !  superb  !  exquisite  !  Oh,  I  never  saw 
anything  like  this  in  all  my  life !  And  then  the  hum 
of  song — La-Zrt'-LA-LA,  Ra-da-^^-DUM !  Yes,  it  is  all 
true,  all  we  dreamt  or  imagined,  and  beyond*  it.  And 
so  on  we  go  through  Brighton  and  up  the  hills  to  the 
famous  Weald  of  Sussex. 


38  Four-in-Hand  in  Britain 

While  wc  make  our  first  stop  to  water  the  horses  at 
the  wayside  inn,  and  some  of  the  men  as  well,  for  a  glass 
of  beer  asserts  its  attractions,  let  me  introduce  you  to 
two  worthies  whose  names  will  occupy  important  places 
in  our  narrative,  and  dwell  in  our  memories  forever; 
men  to  whom  we  are  indebted  in  a  large  measure  for 
the  success  of  the  coaching  experiment. 

Ladies  and  gentlemen,  this  is  Perry,  Perry  our 
coachman  ;  and  what  he  doesn't  know  about  horses  and 
how  to  handle  them  you  needn't  overtask  yourselves 
trying  to  learn.  And  this  is  Joe — Joey,  my  lad — foot- 
man and  coach  manager.  A  good  head  and  an  elo- 
quent tongue  has  Joe.  Yes,  and  a  kind  heart.  There 
is  nothing  he  can  do  or  think  of  doing  for  any  of  us — 
and  he  can  do  much — that  he  is  not  off  and  doing  ere 
we  ask  him.  ''  Skid,  Joe  ! "  "  Right,  Perry  !  "  these  talis- 
manic  words  of  our  order  we  heard  to-day  for  the 
first  time.  It  will  be  many  a  long  day  before  they 
cease  to  recall  to  the  Charioteers  some  of  the  hap- 
piest recollections  of  life.  Even  as  I  write  I  am  in 
English  meadows  far  away  and  hear  them  tingling  in 
my  ears. 

It  was  soon  discovered  that  no  mode  of  travel  could 
be  compared  with  coaching.  By  all  other  modes  the 
views  are  obstructed  by  the  hedges  and  walls  ;  upon 
the  top  of  the  coach  the  eye  wanders  far  and  wide, 

"  O'er  deep  waving  fields  and  pastures  green, 
With  gentle  slopes  and  groves  between." 


Rural  England.  39 

Everthing  of  rural  England  is  seen,  and  how  exquisitely 
beautiful  it  all  is,  this  quiet,  peaceful,  orderly  land ! 

"  The  ground's  most  gentle  dimplement 
(As  if  God's  finger  touched,  but  did  not  press, 
In  making  England) — such  an  up  and  down 
Of  verdure ;  nothing  too  much  up  and  down, 
A  ripple  of  land,  such  little  hills  the  sky 
Can  stoop  to  tenderly  and  the  wheat-fields  climb  ; 
Such  nooks  of  valleys  lined  with  orchises, 
Fed  full  of  noises  by  invisible  streams, 
I  thought  my  father's  land  was  worthy  too  of  being  Shake- 
speare's." 

I  think  this  extract  from  Mr.  Winter's  charming 
volume  expresses  the  feelings  one  has  amid  such  scenes 
better  than  anything  I  know  of : 

''  If  the  beauty  of  England  were  merely  superficial, 
it  would  produce  a  merely  superficial  effect.  It  would 
cause  a  passing  pleasure,  and  would  be  forgotten.  It 
certainly  would  not — as  now  in  fact  it  does — inspire  a 
deep,  joyous,  serene  and  grateful  contentment,  and  lin- 
ger in  the  mind,  a  gracious  and  beneficent  remem- 
brance. The  conquering  and  lasting  potency  of  it  re- 
sides not  alone  in  loveliness  of  expression,  but  in  love- 
liness of  character.  Having  first  greatly  blessed  the 
British  Islands  with  the  natural  advantages  of  position, 
climate,  soil,  and  products,  nature  has  wrought  out 
their  development  and  adornment  as  a  necessary  con- 
sequence of  the  spirit  of  their  inhabitants.     The  pictu- 


40  FoiLv-in-Hand  in  Britain. 

resque  variety  and  pastoral  repose  of  the  English  land- 
scape spring,  in  a  considerable  measure,  from  the 
imaginative  taste  and  the  affectionate  gentleness  of  the 
English  people.  The  state  of  the  country,  like  its 
social  constitution,  flows  from  principles  within  (which 
are  constantly  suggested),  and  it  steadily  comforts  and 
nourishes  the  mind  with  a  sense  of  kindly  feeling,  moral 
rectitude,  solidity,  and  permanence.  Thus,  in  the  pe- 
culiar beauty  of  England  the  ideal  is  made  the  actual, 
is  expressed  in  things  more  than  in  words,  and  in 
things  by  which  words  are  transcended.  Milton's 
'  L'Allegro,'  fine  as  it  is,  is  not  so  fine  as  the  scenery — 
the  crystallized,  embodied  poetry — out  of  which  it 
arose.  All  the  delicious  rural  verse  that  has  been 
written  in  England  is  only  the  excess  and  superflux  of 
her  own  poetic  opulence  ;  it  has  rippled  from  the  hearts 
of  her  poets  just  as  the  fragrance  floats  away  from  her 
hawthorn  hedges.  At  every  step  of  his  progress  the 
pilgrim  through  English  scenes  is  impressed  with  this 
sovereign  excellence  of  the  accomplished  fact,  as  con- 
trasted with  any  words  that  can  be  said  in  its  celebra- 
tion." 

The  roads  are  a  theme  of  continual  wonder  to  those 
who  have  not  before  seen  England.  To  say  that  from 
end  to  end  of  our  journey  they  equalled  those  of  New 
York  Central  Park  would  be  to  understate  the  fact. 
They  are  equal  to  the  park  roads  on  days  when  these 
are  at  their  best,  and  are  neither"  wet  nor  dusty.     We 


The  Scribe  as  a  Singer,  41 

bowl  over  them  as  balls  do  over  billiard-tables.  It  is  a 
glide  rather  than  a  roll,  with  no  sensation  of  jolting. 
You  could  write  or  read  on  the  coach  almost  as  well  as 
at  home.  I  mean  you  could  if  there  was  any  time  to 
waste  doing  either,  and  you  were  not  afraid  of  missing 
some  beautiful  picture  which  would  dwell  in  your  mem- 
ory for  years,  or  Aleck's  last  joke,  or  the  Prima  Donna's 
sweet  song,  Andrew's  never-to-be-forgotten  lilt,  or  the 
Queen  Dowager's  Scotch  ballad  pertaining  to  the  dis- 
trict ;  or  what  might  be  even  still  more  likely,  if  you 
didn't  want  to  tell  a  story  yourself,  or  even  join  in  the 
roaring  chorus  as  we  roll  along,  for  truly  the  exhilarat- 
ing effect  of  the  triumphant  progress  is  such  as  to  em- 
bolden one  to  do  anything.  I  always  liked  Artemus 
Ward,  perhaps  because  I  found  a  point  of  similarity 
between  him  and  myself.  It  was  not  he  but  his  friend 
who  "  was  saddest  when  he  sang,"  as  the  old  song  has 
it.  I  noticed  that  my  friends  were  strangely  touched 
when  I  burst  into  song.  I  do  not  recall  an  instance 
when  I  was  encored  ;  but  the  apparent  slight  arose 
probably  from  a  suspicion  that  if  recalled  I  would  have 
essayed  the  same  song.  This  is  unjust !  I  have  another 
in  reserve  for  such  an  occasion,  if  it  ever  happen.  The 
words  are  different,  although  the  tune  may  be  some- 
what similar.  When  I  like  a  tune  I  stick  to  it,  more  or 
less,  and  when  there  are  fine  touches  in  several  tunes  I 
have  been  credited  with  an  eclectic  disposition.  How- 
ever this  may  be,  there  was  never  time  upon  our  coach 


42  Four-in-Hand  in  Britain, 

for  anything  which  called  our  eyes  and  our  attention 
from  the  rapid  succession  of  pretty  cottages,  fine  flow- 
ers, the  birds  and  lowing  herds,  the  grand  lights  and 
grander  shadows  of  that  uncertain  fleecy  sky,  the  luxu- 
riance of  the  verdure,  flowery  dells  and  dewy  meads, 
and  the  hundred  surprising  beauties  that  make  England 
England. 

These  bind  us  captive  and  drive  from  the  mind 
every  thought  of  anything  but  the  full  and  intense 
enjoyment  of  the  present  hour;  and  this  comes  without 
thought.  Forgetful  of  the  past,  regardless  of  the  fu- 
ture, from  morn  till  night,  it  is  one  uninterrupted  season 
of  pure  and  unalloyed  joyousness.  Never  were  the 
words  of  the  old  Scotch  song  as  timely  as  now  : 

*'  The  present  moment  is  our  ain, 
The  neist  we  never  see." 

Having  got  the  party  fairly  started,  let  me  tell  you 
something  of  our  general  arrangements  for  the  cam- 
paign. The  coach,  horses,  and  servants  are  engaged  at 
a  stipulated  sum  per  week,  which  includes  their  travel- 
ling expenses.  We  have  nothing  to  do  with  their  bills 
or  arrangements,  neither  are  we  in  any  wise  responsible 
for  accidents  to  the  property.  Every  one  of  the  party 
is  allowed  a  small  hand-bag  and  a  strap  package ;  the 
former  contains  necessary  articles  for  daily  use,  the  lat- 
ter waterproofs,  shawls,  shoes,  etc.  The  Gay  Chariot- 
eers march  with  supplies  for  one  week.     The  trunks 


Luncheon.  43 

are  forwarded  every  week  to  the  point  where  we  are  to 
spend  the  succeeding  Sunday,  so  that  every  Saturday 
evening  we  replenish  our  wardrobe,  and  at  the  Sunday 
dinner  appear  in  full  dress,  making  a  difference  be- 
tween that  and  other  days.  This  we  found-  well  worth 
observing,  for  our  Sunday  evenings  were  thereby  made 
somewhat  unusual  affairs.  In  no  case  did  any  failure 
of  this  plan  occur,  nor  were  we  ever  put  to  the  slightest 
inconvenience  about  clothing.  Our  hotel  accommoda- 
tions were  secured  by  telegraph.  The  General  Manager 
had  engaged  these  for  our  first  week's  stage,  previous 
to  our  start. 

The  question  of  luncheon  soon  came  to  the  front, 
for  should  we  be  favored  with  fine  weather,  much  of 
the  poetry  and  romance  of  the  journey  was  sure  to 
cluster  round  the  midday  halt.  It  was  by  a  process  of 
natural  selection  that  she  who  had  proved  her  genius 
for  making  salads  on  many  occasions  during  the  voyage 
should  be  unanimously  appointed  to  fill  the  important 
position  of  stewardess,  and  given  full  and  unlimited 
control  of  the  hampers.  Our  stewardess  only  lived  up 
to  a  well-deserved  reputation  by  surprising  us  day  after 
day  with  luncheons  far  excelling  any  dinner.  Two 
coaching  hampers,  very  complete  affairs,  were  obtained 
in  London.  These  the  stewardess  saw  filled  at  the  inn 
every  morning  with  the  best  the  country  could  afford, 
under  her  personal  supervision,  a  labor  of  love.  Our 
Pard's  sweet  tooth  led  him  to  many  early  excursions 


44  Four-in-Hand  in  Britain. 

before  breakfast  in  quest  of  sweets  and  flowers  for 
us.  Aleck  was  butler,  and  upon  him  we  placed  implicit 
reliance,  and  with  excellent  reason  too,  for  the  essential 
corkscrew  and  the  use  thereof — which  may  be  rated  as 
of  prime  necessity  upon  such  a  tour — and  Aleck  never 
failed  us  as  superintendent  of  the  bottles. 

It  was  in  obedience  to  the  strictest  tenets  of  our 
civil  service  reform  association  that  the  most  important 
appointment  of  all  was  made  with  a  unanimity  which 
must  ever  be  flattering  to  the  distinguished  gentleman 
who  received  the  highly  responsible  appointment  of 
General  Manager.  Just  here  let  me  say,  for  the  peace 
of  mind  of  any  gentleman  who  may  be  tempted  to  try 
the  coaching  experiment  upon  a  large  scale,  and  for  an 
extended  tour :  Dont,  unless  you  have  a  dear  friend  with 
a  clear  head,  an  angelic  disposition,  a  great  big  heart, 
and  the  tact  essential  for  governing,  who  for  your  sake 
is  willing  to  relieve  you  from  the  cares  incident  to  such 
a  tour — that  is,  if  you  expect  to  enjoy  it  as  a  recrea- 
tion, and  have  something  that  will  linger  forever  after  in 
the  memory  as  an  adventure  in  wonderland.  Should 
you  however  be  one  of  those  rare  men  who  have  a  real 
liking  for  details,  and  so  conceited  as  to  think  that  you 
never  get  things  done  so  well  as  when  your  own  genius 
superintends  them,  being  in  this  respect  the  antipode 
of  a  modest  man  like  myself — who  never  does  by  any 
chance  find  any  one  who  can  so  completely  bungle  mat- 
ters as  himself — it  may  of  course  be  different.     As  for 


GrotLping.  45 

me,  the  very  first  inquiry  I  shall  make  of  myself  when  I 
am  about  to  take  the  road  again — as  pray  heaven  I  may 
some  day,  and  that  ere  long — will  be  this :  Now  who 
can  I  get  for  Prime  Minister,  one  who  will  like  to  gov- 
ern and  allow  me  to  laugh  and  frolic  with  the  party 
without  a  care  ?  The  position  of  a  king  in  a  constitu- 
tional monarchy  is  the  very  ideal  for  a  chief  to  emulate. 
It  is  delightful  to  feel  so  very  certain  that  one  "  can  do 
no  wrong,"  even  if  infallibility  be  obtained,  as  Queen 
Victoria's  is,  because  she  is  no  longer  allowed  to  do 
anything.  Such  was  the  case  with  the  Scribe  during 
the  Coaching  Tour.     Happy  man  ! 

There  must  always  be  a  tendency  toward  grouping 
in  a  large  party :  groups  of  four  or  five,  and  in  extreme 
cases  a  group  of  two  ;  and  especially  is  this  so  when 
married  people,  cousins  or  dear  friends,  are  of  the  com- 
pany. To  prevent  anything  like  this,  and  insure  our 
being  one  united  party,  I  asked  the  gentlemen  not  to 
occupy  the  same  seat  twice  in  succession — a  rule  which 
gave  the  ladies  a  different  companion  at  each  meal,  and 
a  change  upon  the  coach  several  times  each  day.  This 
was  understood  to  apply  in  a  general  way  to  our  strolls, 
although  in  this  case  the  General  Manager,  with  rare 
discretion,  winked  at  many  infringements,  which  insured 
him  grateful  constituents  of  both  sexes.  Young  people 
should  never  be  held  too  strictly  to  such  rules,  and  a 
chaperon's  duties,  as  we  all  know,  are  often  most  sue-  j 
cessfully  performed  by  a  wise   and  salutary  neglect. 


46  Fotir-in-Hand  in  Britain. 

Our  General  Manager  and  even  the  Queen   Dowager 
were  considerate. 

We  generally  started  about  half-past  nine  in  the 
morning,  half  an  hour  earlier  or  later  as  the  day's  jour- 
ney was  to  be  long  or  short ;  and  here  let  me  record, 
to  the  credit  of  all,  that  not  in  any  instance  had  we 
ever  to  wait  for  any  of  the  party  beyond  the  five  min- 
utes allowed  upon  all  well  managed  lines  for  "  variation 
of  watches."  The  horn  sounded,  and  we  were  off 
through  the  crowds  which  were  usually  around  the 
hotel  door  awaiting  the  start.  Nor  even  at  meals  were 
we  less  punctual  or  less  mindful  of  the  comfort  of 
others.  I  had  indeed  a  model  party  in  every  way,  and 
in  none  more  praiseworthy  than  in  this,  that  the  Chari- 
oteers were  always  "  on  time."  The  Prima  Donna's 
explanation  may  have  reason  in  it :  "  Who  wouldn't  be 
ready  and  waiting  to  mount  the  coach  !  I'd  as  soon 
be  late,  and  a  good  deal  sooner,  maybe,  for  my  wed- 
ding :  and  as  for  meals,  there  was  even  a  better  reason 
why  we  were  always  ready  then :  we  couldn't  wait." 
We  did  indeed  eat  like  hawks,  especially  at  luncheon — 
a  real  boy's  hunger — the  ravenous  gnawing  after  a  day 
at  the  sea  gathering  whilks.  I  thought  this  had  left 
me,  but  that  with  many  another  characteristic  of  glori- 
ous youth  came  once  more  to  make  daft  callants  of  us. 
O  those  days  !  those  happy,  happy  days  !  Can  they 
be  brought  back  once  more?  Will  a  second  coaching 
trip  do  it  ?     I  would  be  off  next  summer.     But  one 


Aristocratic  Gypsies.  47 

hesitates  to  put  his  luck  to  the  test  a  second  time,  lest 
the  perfect  image  of  the  first  be  marred.  We  shall 
see. 

During  the  evening  we  had  learned  the  next  day's 
stage — where  we  were  to  stay  over  night,  and,  what  is 
almost  as  important,  in  what  pretty  nook  we  were  to 
rest  at  midday  ;  on  the  banks  of  what  classic  stream  or 
wimpling  burn,  or  in  what  shady,  moss-covered  dell. 
Several  people  of  note  in  the  neighborhood  dropped 
into  the  inn,  as  a  rule,  to  see  the  American  coaching 
party,  whose  arrival  in  the  village  had  made  as  great  a 
stir  as  if  it  were  the  advance  show-wagon  of  Barnum's 
menagerie.  From  these  the  best  route  and  objects  of 
interest  to  be  seen  could  readily  be  obtained.  The 
ordnance  maps  which  we  carried  kept  us  from  trouble 
about  the  right  roads ;  not  only  this,  they  gave  us  the 
name  of  every  estate  we  passed,  and  of  its  owner. 

The  horses  have  to  be  considered  in  selecting  a 
luncheon-place,  which  should  be  near  an  inn,  where 
they  can  be  baited.  This  was  rarely  inconvenient  ;  but 
upon  a  few  occasions,  when  the  choice  spot  was  in  some 
glen  or  secluded  place,  we  took  oats  along,  and  our 
horses  were  none  the  worse  off  for  nibbling  the  road- 
side grass  and  drinking  from  the  brook.  Nor  did  the 
party  look  less  like  the  aristocratic  Gypsies  they  felt 
themselves  to  be  from  having  their  coach  standing  on 
the  moor  or  in  the  glen,  and  the  horses  picketed  near 
by,  as  if  we  were  just   the  true-born   Gypsies.     And 


48  Fotir-in-Hand  in  Britain. 

was  there  ever  a  band  of  Gypsies  happier  than  we,  or 
freer  from  care?     Didn't  we  often  dash  off  in  a  roar: 

"  See  !  the  smoking  bowl  before  us, 

Mark  our  jovial  ragged  ring  ! 
Round  and  round  take  up  the  chorus, 

And  in  raptures  let  us  sing. 
A  fig  for  those  by  law  protected  ! 

Liberty's  a  glorious  feast ! 
Courts  for  cowards  were  erected, 

Churches  built  to  please  the  priest." 

Halt !  Ho  for  luncheon  !  Steps,  Joe.  Yes,  sir ! 
The  committee  of  two  dismount  and  select  the  choicest 
little  bit  of  sward  for  the  table.  It  is  not  too  warm, 
still  we  will  not  refuse  the  shade  of  a  noble  chestnut  or 
fragrant  birk,  or  the  side  of  a  tall  hedge,  on  which  lie, 
in  one  magnificent  bed,  masses  of  honeysuckle,  over 
which  nod,  upon  graceful  sprays,  hundreds  of  the  pret- 
tiest wild  roses,  and  at  whose  foot  grow  the  foxglove 
and  wandering  willie. 

It  is  no  easy  matter  to  decide  which  piece  of  the 
velvety  lawn  is  finest ;  but  here  come  Joe  and  Perry 
with  armfuls  of  rugs  to  the  chosen  spot.  The  rugs  are 
spread  two  lengthwise  a  few  feet  apart,  and  one  across 
at  the  top  and  bottom,  leaving  for  the  table  in  the  cen- 
tre the  fine  clovered  turf  with  buttercups  and  daisies 
pied.  The  ladies  have  gathered  such  handfuls  of  wild 
flowers !  How  fresh,  how  unaffected,  and  how  far 
beyond  the  more  pretentious  bouquets  which  grace  our 


Wild  Flowc7's.  49 

city  dinners!  These  are  Nature's  own  dear  children, 
fresh  from  her  lap,  besprinkled  with  the  dews  of  heaven, 
unconscious  of  their  charms.  How  touchingly  beauti- 
ful are  the  wild  flowers !  real  friends  are  they,  close  to 
our  hearts,  while  those  of  the  conservatory  stand  out- 
side, fashionable  acquaintances  only. 

Give  us  the  wild  flowers,  and  take  your  prize  varie- 
ties ;  for  does  not  even  Tennyson  (a  good  deal  of  a  cul- 
tivated flower  himself)  sing  thus  of  the  harshest  of  them 
all,  though  to  a  Scotsman  sacred  beyond  all  other  veg- 
etation : 

.     .     .      "  the  stubborn  thistle  bursting 
Into  glossy  purples,  which  outredden 
All  voluptuous  garden  roses." 

And  in  that  wonder  of  our  generation,  the  "  Light  of 
Asia,"  it  is  no  garden  beauties  who  are  addressed  •• 

"  Oh,  flowers  of  the  field  !  Siddurthasaid, 
Who  turn  your  tender  faces  to  the  sun — 
Glad  of  the  light,  and  grateful  with  sweet  breath 
Of  fragrance  and  these  robes  of  reverence  donned. 
Silver  and  gold  and  purple — none  of  ye 
Miss  perfect  living,  none  of  ye  despoil 
Your  happy  beauty.     .     .     . 
What  secret  know  ye  that  ye  grow  content, 
From  time  of  tender  shoot  to  time  of  fruit. 
Murmuring  such  sun-songs  from  your  feathered  crowns  ?" 

You  may  be  sure  that  while  in   Scotland  old  Scotia's 
dear  emblem,  and  that  most  graceful  of  all  flowers,  the 
4 


50  Four -171' Ha7td  in  Britain. 

Scottish  bluebell,  towered  over  our  bouquets,  and 
that  round  them  clustered  the  others  less  known  to 
fame. 

It  was  an  easy  matter  to  tie  the  flowers  round  sticks 
and  press  these  into  the  soft  lawn,  and  then  there  was  a 
table  for  you — equal  it  who  can  !  Round  this  the 
travellers  range  themselves  upon  the  rugs,  sometimes 
finding  in  back  to  back  an  excellent  support,  for  they 
sat  long  at  table  ;  and  see  at  the  head — for  it's  the  head 
wherever  she  sits — the  Queen  Dowager  is  comfortably 
seated  upon  the  smaller  of  the  two  hampers.  The 
larger  placed  on  end  before  her  gives  her  a  private 
table :  she  has  an  excellent  seat,  befitting  her  dignity. 
Joe  and  Perry  have  put  the  horses  up  at  the  inn,  and 
are  back  with  mugs  of  foaming  ale,  bottles  of  Devon- 
shire cider,  lemonade,  and  pitchers  of  fresh  creamy 
milk,  that  all  tastes  may  be  suited.  The  stewardess 
and  her  assistants  have  set  table,  and  now  luncheon 
is  ready.  No  formal  grace  is  necessary,  for  our  hearts 
have  been  overflowing  with  gratitude  all  the  day  long 
for  the  blessed  happiness  showered  upon  us.  We  owe 
no  man  a  grudge,  harbor  no  evil,  have  forgiven  all  our 
enemies,  if  we  have  any — for  we  doubt  the  existence  of 
enemies,  being  ourselves  the  enemy  of  none.  Our 
hearts  open  to  embrace  all  things,  both  great  and 
small ;  we  are  only  sorry  that  so  much  is  given  to  us,  so 
little  to  many  of  our  more  deserving  fellow-creatures. 
Truly,  the  best  grace  this,  before  meat  or  after ! 


Good  Appetites.  ei 

"  He  prayeth  best  who  loveth  best 
All  things  both  great  and  small ; 
For  the  dear  God  who  loveth  us, 
He  made  and  loveth  all." 

In  these  days  we  feel  for  the  Deevil  himself,  and 
wish  with  Burns  that  he  would  take  a  thought  and 
mend ;  and,  as  Howells  says,  "  if  we  had  the  naming  of 
creation  we  wouldn't  call  snakes  snakes  "  if  the  christen- 
ing took  place  while  we  were  coaching. 

No  one  would  believe  what  fearful  appetites  driving 
in  this  climate  gives  one.  Shall  we  ever  feel  such 
tigerish  hunger  again !  but,  what  is  just  as  important, 
shall  we  ever  again  have  such  luncheons !  "  Give  me  a 
sixpence,"  said  the  beggar  to  the  duke,  "  for  I  have 
nothing."  "You  lie,  you  beggar;  I'd  give  a  thousand 
pounds  for  such  an  appetite  as  you've  got."  Well, 
ours  would  have  been  cheap  to  you,  my  lord  duke,  at 
double  the  money.  What  a  roar  it  caused  one  day 
when  one  of  the  young  ladies  was  discovered  quietly 
taking  the  third  slice  of  cold  ham.  "  Well,  girls,  you 
must  remember  I  was  on  the  front  seat,  and  had  to 
stand  the  briuit  of  the  weather  this  morning."  Capital ! 
I  had  been  there  at  her  side,  and  got  my  extra  allow- 
ance on  the  same  ground  ;  and  those  who  bore  the  brunt 
of  the  weather  claimed  a  great  many  second  and  even 
third  allowances  during  the  journey. 

Aleck  {AdXtzV^  not  El-eck,  remember),  set  the  table 
in  a  roar  so  often  with  his  funny  sayings  and  doings 


52  Four-in-Hand  in  Britain. 

that  it  would  fill  the  record  were  I  to  recount  them,  but 
one  comes  to  mind  as  I  write  which  was  a  great  hit. 

A  temperance — no,  a  total  abstinence  lady  rebuked 
him  once  for  taking  a  second  or  third  glass  of  some- 
thing, telling  him  that  he  should  try  to  conquer  his 
liking  for  it,  and  assuring  him  that  if  he  would  only  re- 
sist the  Devil  he  would  flee  from  him.  "  I  know,"  said 
the  wag  (and  with  such  a  comical,  good-natured  ex- 
pression), "  that  is  what  the  good  book  says,  Mrs.  , 

but  I  have  generally  found  that  I  was  the  fellow  who 
had  to  get y     You  couldn't  corner  Aaleck. 

Although  we  were  coaching,  it  must  not  be  thought 
that  we  neglected  the  pleasures  of  walking.  No,  indeed, 
we  had  our  daily  strolls.  Sometimes  the  pedestrians 
started  in  advance  of  the  coach  from  the  inn  or  the 
luncheon  ground,  and  walked  until  overtaken,  and  at 
other  times  we  would  dismount  some  miles  before  we 
reached  the  end  of  the  day's  journey,  and  walk  into  the 
village.  This  was  a  favorite  plan,  as  we  found  by 
arriving  later  than  the  main  body  our  rooms  were 
ready  and  all  the  friends  in  our  general  sitting-room 
standing  to  welcome  us. 

Hills  upon  the  route  were  always  hailed  as  giving  us 
an  opportunity  for  a  walk  or  a  stroll,  and  all  the  sport 
derivable  from  a  happy  party  in  country  lanes.  It  was 
early  June,  quite  near  enough  to 

"  The  flowery  May  who  from  her  green  lap  throws 
The  yellow  cowslip  and  the  pale  primrose," 


Pleasures  of  Walking.  53 

and  the  hundreds  of  England's  wild  beauties  with 

"  quaint  enamell'd  eyes, 
That  on  the  green  turf  suck  the  honeyed  showers, 
And  purple  all  the  ground  with  vernal  flowers." 

Many  a  time  was  Perry  instructed  to  w^ait  for  us 
at  the  foot  of  the  hill,  or  a  mile  or  two  in  advance, 
while  we  spent  the  happy  intervals  in  examining  still 
closer  than  it  was  possible  to  do  while  driving  the 
beauties  which  captivated  us  at  every  turn.  The  pleas- 
ures of  walking  set  against  those  of  coaching  might 
well  furnish  matter  for  an  evening's  debate.  Combined, 
as  they  were  with  us,  the  result  was  perfection,  for  they 
are  indeed  upon  such  a  tour  the  complement  of  each 
other.  If  ever  weary  of  the  coach — which  we  never 
were — nothing  like  a  walk  along  the  hedge-rows  as  a 
substitute,  with  many  a  run  into  out-of-the-way  paths, 
which  tempted  us  by  their  loveliness,  and  many  a 
minute  stolen  to  explore  the  windings  of  the  brooks 
we  passed.  I  often  felt  that  one  of  the  prettiest 
pictures  I  had  ever  seen  was  that  of  our  own  party 
scattered  about  some  bosky  dell  in  the  way  I  have  de- 
scribed, while  the  towering  coach-and-four  stood  out 
clear  against  the  sky  upon  the  hilltop,  waiting  for  us 
to  tear  ourselves  away  from  scenes  among  which  we 
would  linger  till  the  daylight  had  passed.  Let  no  one 
fail  while  coaching  to  work  this  mine  of  pure  happi- 
ness to  the  full. 


54  Four-i7t-Hand  in  Britain. 

We  carried  perpetual  flowering  summer  Avith  us  as 
we  travelled  from  south  to  north,  plucking  the  wild 
roses  and  the  honeysuckles  from  the  hedges  near 
Brighton,  never  missing  their  sweet  influences,  and 
finding  them  ready  to  welcome  us  at  Inverness, 
seven  weeks  later,  as  if  they  had  waited  till  our  ap- 
proach to  burst  forth  in  their  beauty  in  kindly  greeting 
of  their  kinsmen  from  over  the  sea.  A  dancing,  laugh- 
ing welcome  did  the  wild  flowers  of  my  native  land 
give  to  us,  God  bless  them ! 

On  our  arrival  at  the  inn  for  the  night,  the  General 
Manager  examined  the  rooms  and  assigned  them  ;  Joe 
and  Perry  handed  over  the  bags  to  the  servants ;  the 
party  went  direct  to  their  general  sitting-room,  and  in 
a  few  minutes  were  taken  to  their  rooms,  where  all  was 
ready  for  them.  The  two  American  flags  were  placed 
upon  the  mantel  of  the  sitting-room,  in  which  there  was 
always  a  piano,  and  we  sat  down  to  dinner  a  happy 
band. 

The  long  twilight  and  the  gloaming  in  Scotland 
gave  us  two  hours  after  dinner  to  see  the  place ;  and 
after  our  return  an  hour  of  musical  entertainment  was 
generally  enjoyed,  and  we  were  off  to  bed  to  sleep  the 
sound,  refreshing  sleep  of  childhood's  innocent  days. 
The  duties  of  the  General  Manager,  however,  required 
his  attendance  down  stairs  ;  he  had  to-morrow's  route 
to  learn  and  the  landlord  or  landlady,  as  the  case  might 
be,  to  see.     Some  of  the  male  members  of  the  party 


Coaching   Weather.  55 

were  not  loath  to  assist  in  this  business,  and  I  have 
heard  many  a  story  of  the  pranks  played  by  them — for 
several  of  my  friends  are  not  unlike  the  piper,  "  Rory 
Murphy," 

"Who  had  of  good  auld  sangs  the  wale 
To  please  the  wives  that  brewed  good  ale  ; 
He  charmed  the  swats  frae  cog  and  pail 
As  he  cam  through  Dumbarton." 

No  doubt  the  landlord's  laugh  was  ready  chorus, 
and  the  Gay  Charioteers  of  this  department,  I  make 
bold  to  say,  tasted  most  of  the  "  far  ben  "  barrels  of 
every  landlord  or  landlady  in  their  way  northward. 
The  question  of  the  weather  occurs  to  every  one.  "  If 
you  have  a  dry  season,  it  may  be  done  ;  if  a  wet  one, 
I  doubt  it,"  was  the  opinion  of  one  of  my  wisest  friends 
in  Britain.  We  were  surprisingly  fortunate  in  this  re- 
spect. Only  one  day  did  we  suffer  seriously  from  rain. 
A  gentle  shower  fell  now  and  then  to  cool  the  air  and  lay 
the  dust,  or  rather  to  prevent  the  dust,  and  seemingly 
to  recreate  vegetation.  Who  wouldn't  bear  a  shower,  if 
properly  supplied  with  waterproofs  and  umbrellas,  for 
the  fresh  glory  revealed  thereafter.  Only  a  continual 
downpour  for  days  could  have  dampened  the  ardor  of 
the  Gay  Charioteers.  Good  coaching  weather  may  be 
expected  in  June  and  July,  if  one  may  indulge  any 
weather  anticipations  in  England.  After  we  left  the 
deluge  came ;  nothing  but  rain  during  August  and 
September,  at  least  such  was  the  report — but  the  con- 


56  Four-in-Hand  in  Britain. 

venienccs  of  living  are  so  great  and  the  discomforts  so 
few  in  England  that  I  incline  to  the  opinion,  especially 
when  I  take  into  consideration  the  well-known  tendency 
of  the  islanders  to  grumble,  that  far  too  much  is  made 
out  of  the  so-called  bad  weather.  We  had  a  curious 
illustration  of  this.  One  day  we  heard  some  rumbling 
sounds  which  would  scarcely  pass  with  us  for  thunder, 
and  we  were  amused  next  morning  to  read  in  the  news- 
papers of  the  terrific  thunder-storm  which  had  passed 
over  the  district.  All  things  are  gentle  and  well  be- 
haved in  this  sober,  steady-going,  conservative  land. 
Even  Jove  himself  "  roars  you  as  mildly  as  a  sucking 
dove."  Pluvius,  too,  is  less  terrible  than  he  is  painted, 
though  the  green,  green  grass,  the  smiling  hedgerows, 
the  luxuriant  vegetation  everywhere  tells  of  a  moist 
nature  and  a  disposition  to  weep  at  short  intervals  ;  but 
the  rain  comes  gently  down  as  if  all  the  while  begging 
your  pardon  and  explaining  that  it  couldn't  possibly 
help  it,  the  sky  being  unable  to  keep  it  any  longer  in 
its  overburdened  bosom.  Strong,  thick  shoes,  one  pair 
in  reserve,  and  overshoes  for  the  ladies,  heavy  woollen 
clothing — under  and  over — a  waterproof,  an  umbrella, 
and  a  felt  hat  that  won't  spoil — these  rendered  us  al- 
most independent  of  the  weather  and  prepared  us  to 
encounter  the  worst  ever  predicted  of  the  British  cli- 
mate ;  and  this  is  saying  a  great  deal,  for  the  natives 
do  grumble  inordinately  about  it.  As  I  have  said, 
however,  our  travelling  was  never  put  to  a  severe  test. 


Way  side  Inns.  57 

England  and  Scotland  smiled  upon  the  coaching  party, 
and  compelled  us  all  to  fall  deeply  in  love  with  their 
unrivalled  charms.  We  thought  that  even  in  tears  this 
blessed  isle  must  still  be  enchanting. 

The  same  horses  (with  one  exception)  took  us 
through  from  Brighton  to  Inverness.  This  has  sur- 
prised some  horsemen  here,  but  little  do  they  know  of 
the  roads  and  climate,  or  of  Perry's  care.  Our  average 
distance,  omitting  days  when  we  rested,  was  thirty-two 
miles,  and  horses  will  actually  improve  on  such  a  jour- 
ney, as  ours  did,  if  not  pushed  too  fast  and  not  forced 
to  pull  beyond  their  strength  up  steep  hills.  The 
continual  desire  of  most  of  our  party  to  dismount  and 
enjoy  a  walk  gave  our  horses  a  light  coach  where  the 
road  was  such  as  to  bring  them  to  a  walk,  and  they 
were  actually  in  better  condition  after  the  journey  than 
when  we  started. 

For  luncheon,  "  good  my  liege,  all  place  a  temple 
and  all  seasons  summer,"  but  for  lodgings  and  entertain- 
ment for  man  and  beast,  how  did  we  manage  these  ? 
Shall  we  not  take  our  ease  in  our  inn  ?  and  shall  not 
mine  host  of  The  Garter,  ay  and  mine  hostess  too, 
prove  the  most  obliging  of  people?  I  do  not  suppose 
that  it  would  be  possible  to  find  in  any  other  country 
such  delightful  inns  at  every  stage  of  such  a  journey. 
Among  many  pretty  objects  upon  which  memory  lov- 
ingly rests,  these  little  wayside  inns  stand  prominently 
forward.    The  very  names  carry  one  back  to  quaint  days 


58  Four-in-Hand  in  Britain. 

of  old  :  "  The  Lamb  and  Lark,"  "  The  Wheat  Sheaf," 
"  The  Barley  Mow."  Oh,  you  fat  wight !  your  inn  was 
in  Eastcheap,  but  in  your  march  through  Coventry, 
when  you  wouldn't  go  with  your  scarecrows,  it  was  to 
some  wayside  inn  you  went,  you  rogue,  with  its  trailing 
vines,  thatched  roof,  and  pretty  garden  flower-pots  in 
the  windows ;  and  upon  such  excursions  it  was,  too, 
that  you  acquired  that  love  of  nature  which  enabled 
the  master  with  six  words  to  cover  most  that  was  un- 
unsavory  in  your  character,  and  hand  you  down  to  gen- 
erations unborn,  shrived  and  absolved.  Dear  old  boy — • 
whom  one  would  like  to  have  known — for  after  all  you 
were  right,  Jack  :  "  If  Adam  fell  in  an  age  of  innocency, 
what  was  poor  Jack  FalstafT  to  do  in  an  age  of  vil- 
lainy !  "  There  was  something  pure  and  good  at  bot- 
tom of  one  who  left  us  after  life's  vanities  were  o'er 
playing  with  flowers  and  "  babbling  o'  green  fields." 
These  country  hostelries  are  redolent  of  the  green 
fields.  It  is  in  such  we  would  take  our  ease  in  our  inn. 
The  host,  hostess,  and  servants  assembled  at  the  door 
upon  our  arrival,  and  welcomed  us  to  their  home,  as 
they  also  do  when  we  leave  to  bid  us  God-speed.  We 
mount  and  drive  off  with  smiles,  bows,  and  wavings  of 
the  hands  from  them ;  and  surely  the  smiles  and  good 
wishes  of  those  who  have  done  so  much  to  promote  our 
comfort  over  night  are  no  bad  salute  for  us  as  we  blow 
our  horn  and  start  on  the  fresh  dewy  mornings  upon 
our  day's  journey. 


British  Honesty,  59 

The  scrupulous  care  bestowed  upon  us  and  our  be- 
longings by  the  innkeepers  excited  remark.  Not  one 
article  was  lost  of  the  fifty  packages,  great  and  small, 
required  by  fifteen  persons.  It  was  not  even  practicable 
to  get  rid  of  any  trifling  article  which  had  served  its 
purpose  ;  old  gloves,  or  discarded  brushes  quietly 
stowed  away  in  some  drawer  or  other  would  be  handed 
to  us  at  the  next  stage,  having  been  sent  by  express  by 
these  careful,  honest  people.  It  was  a  great  and  inter- 
esting occasion,  as  the  reporters  say,  when  the  stowed- 
away  pair  of  old  slippers  which  she  had  purposely  left, 
were  delivered  to  one  of  our  ladies  with  a  set  speech 
after  dinner  one  evening.  Little  did  she  suspect  what 
was  contained  in  the  nice  package  which  had  been  for- 
warded. Our  cast-off  things  were  veritable  devil's 
ducats  which  would  return  to  plague  us.  To  the 
grandest  feature  of  the  Briton's  character,  the  love  of 
truth,  let  one  more  cardinal  virtue  be  added — his  down- 
right honesty.  More  Englishmen  of  all  ranks,  high  and 
low,  in  proportion  to  population,  will  escape  conviction 
upon  two  counts  of  the  general  indictment,  **  Thou 
shalt  not  bear  false  witness,"  and  "  Thou  shalt  not 
steal,"  than  those  of  any  other  nationality ;  but  upon 
a  collateral  count  a  larger  proportion  of  Englishmen 
of  position  will  have  difficulty  in  clearing  themselves 
than  of  any  other  race  of  which  I  have  knowledge  ;  for 
while  the  true  Briton  will  tell  the  truth,  if  he  has  to 
speak  at  all,  he  will    conceal  his   honest  convictions 


6o  Four-m-Hand  in  Britain. 

upon  social  and  political  subjects  to  such  an  extent  in 
public  as  to  seem  to  you  almost  hypocritical  when  com- 
pared with  what  he  will  say  freely  in  private.  The 
M.  P.  of  the  smoking  room  of  the  House  of  Commons 
and  the  same  man  on  the  floor  of  the  House,  for  in- 
stance, are  two  distinct  personages,  for  it  is  understood 
that  whatever  is  said  below  is  to  be  above  as  if  unsaid. 
I  have  often  wondered  how  they  merge  the  one  char- 
acter into  the  other  when  the  day's  words  and  acts 
come  under  review  ere  the  eyes  close  in  sleep — there  is 
such  a  miserable  fear  in  the  breast  of  the  free-born 
Briton  that  he  will  in  an  unguarded  moment  say  some- 
thing which  he  feels  to  be  true,  but  which  society  will 
not  think  ''  good  form."  The  great  difference  between 
a  Radical  and  a  Liberal  in  England  is,  it  seems  to  me, 
that  the  one  holds  the  same  opinions  in  public  and  in 
private,  while  the  other  has  two  sets  of  opinions,  the  one 
for  public,  the  other  for  private  use.  The  maintenance 
of  old  forms,  from  which  the  life  has  passed  out,  is  no 
doubt  the  real  cause  of  this  phase  of  English  political 
life,  apparently  so  inconsistent  with  the  Saxon  love  of 
truth  ;  one  sham  requires  many  shams  for  its  support. 

We  all  have  our  special  weaknesses  as  to  the  articles 
we  leave  behind  at  hotels.  Mine  is  well  known  ;  but  I 
smile  as  I  write  at  the  cleverness  shown  in  preventing 
my  lapses  during  the  excursion  from  coming  before  the 
congregation.  It  was  a  wary  eye  which  was  kept  upon 
forwarded  parcels,  mark  you,  and  not  once  was  I  pre- 


Wild  Flowers.  6 1 

sented  with  a  left  article.     The  eleventh  commandment 
is,  not  to  be  found  out. 

With  these  general  observations  we  shall  not  "  leave 
the  subject  with  you,"  but,  retracing  our  steps  to  the 
hills  overlooking  Brighton,  we  shall  mount  the  coach 
waiting  there  for  us  at  the  King's  Cross  Inn ;  for  you 
remember  we  dismounted  there  while  the  horses  were 
watered  for  the  first  time.  Ten  miles  of  bewildering 
pleasure  had  brought  us  here ;  some  of  us  pushed  for- 
ward and  had  our  first  stroll,  but  we  scattered  in  a 
minute,  for  who  could  resist  the  flowers  which  tempted 
us  at  every  step  !  The  roses  were  just  in  season ;  the 
honeysuckle,  ragged  robin,  meadow  sweet,  wandering 
willie,  and  who  can  tell  how  many  others  whose  familiar 
names  are  household  words.  What  bouquets  we  gath- 
ered, what  exclamations  of  delight  were  heard  as  one 
mass  of  beauty  after  another  burst  upon  our  sight!  We 
began  to  realize  that  Paradise  lay  before  us,  began  to 
know  that  we  had  discovered  the  rarest  plan  upon  earth 
for  pleasure  ;  as  for  duty  that  was  not  within  our  hori- 
zon. We  scarcely  knew  there  was  work  to  do.  An 
echo  of  a  moan  from  the  weary  world  we  had  cast  be- 
hind was  not  heard.  Divinest  melancholy  was  out  of 
favor;  II  Penseroso  was  discarded  for  the  time,  and 
L'Allegro,  the  happier  goddess,  crowned,  bringing  in 
her  train — 

"  Sport,  that  wrinkled  Care  derides, 
And  Laughter,  holding  both  his  sides; 


62  Four-in-Hand  in  Britain. 

Come  and  trip  it  as  you  go, 
On  the  light,  fantastic  toe." 

That  does  not  quite  express  it,  for  there  was  time 
for  momentary  pauses  now  and  then,  when  the  heart 
swelled  with  gratitude.  We  were  so  grateful  for  being 
so  blessed.  It  was  during  this  stroll  that  Emma  came 
quietly  to  my  side,  slipped  her  arm  in  mine,  and  said  in 
that  rich,  velvety  English  voice  which  we  all  envy  her : 
"  Oh,  Andrew,  when  I  am  to  go  home  you  will  have  to 
tell  me  plainly,  for  indeed  I  shall  never  be  able  to  leave 
this  of  my  own  accord.  I  haven't  been  as  happy  since 
I  was  a  young  girl."  "  Do  you  really  think  you  could 
go  all  the  way  to  Inverness?"  "Oh,  I  could  go  on 
this  way  forever."  "  All  right,  my  lady,  '  check  your 
baggage  through,'  as  we  say  in  Yankeedom  ;  "  and  never 
did  that  woman  lose  sight  of  the  coach  till  it  was  torn 
away  from  her  at  Inverness. 

Some  of  us  dismounted  before  reaching  Horsham, 
and  went  in  pursuit  of  adventure.  In  an  old  tan-yard 
by  the  wayside,  where  mon  were  making  leather  in  the 
crude,  old-fashioned  way,  with  horses  instead  of  a  steam 
engine  for  the  motive  power,  we  had  our  first  conversa- 
tion with  the  British  rural  workman,  whose  weekly 
earnings  do  not  exceed  $3.50.  Now,  this  was  not  more 
than  thirty  miles  from  London,  and  only  twenty-one 
from  the  sea  at  Brighton,  and  yet  the  oldest  man  of 
the  party,  who  was  the  most  talkative,  had  never  seen 
the  sea.      He  had  been  in  London  once,  during  the 


Rip  Van  Winkles.  63 

great  Exhibition  in  185 1,  having  been  treated  to  the 
journey  by  his  employer ;  but  his  brother,  who  lived 
only  a  few  miles  beyond,  had  never  been  in  a  railway 
carriage.  Their  old  master  had  died  recently  and  had 
left  a  pound  ($5)  to  every  workman  who  had  been 
with  him  for  a  certain  number  of  years — I  think  ten. 
Good  old  master !  The  owners  had  new-fangled  no- 
tions, he  said,  and  were  spending  "  heaps  o*  money  "  in 
building  a  steam  engine  which  was  not  yet  ready,  but 
which  he  invited  us  to  go  and  see.  This  was  to  do  the 
work  much  faster ;  but  (with  a  shake  of  the  head)  "  I've 
'earn  tell  by  some  as  knows  it's  na  sae  gid  for  the 
leather." 

Could  we  really  be  within  an  hour's  'ride  of  the  cap- 
ital of  the  world,  and  yet  in  the  midst  of  a  Sleepy 
Hollow  like  this,  peopled  by  Rip  van  Winkles !  This 
incident  gives  a  just  idea  of  the  tenacity  with  which 
the  English  hold  to  what  their  fathers  did  before  them. 
This  man's  father  could  not  have  seen  the  sea  at 
Brighton,  nor  have  visited  London  short  of  spending 
a  week's  earnings.  His  successor  goes  along  as  his 
father  did — what  was  good  enough  for  his  father  is 
good  enough  for  him, 

"  Chained  to  one  spot, 
They  draw  nutrition,  propagate  and  rot." 

But  the  next  generation  is  to  see  all  this  changed,  for 
even  southern  England  is  under  the  compulsory  educa- 


64  Four-in-Hand  m  Britain. 

tion  act,  and  the  rural  population  is  to  have  the  political 
franchise  and  a  voice  in  the  election  of  county  boards. 

At  Horsham  we  lunched  at  the  King's  Arms,  walked 
about  its  principal  square,  and  were  off  again  for  Guild- 
ford. As  we  leave  the  sea  the  soil  becomes  richer,  and 
ere  we  reach  Horsham  we  say,  yes,  this  is  England  in- 
deed ;  but  I  forgot  we  passed  through  the  Weald  of 
Sussex  before  reaching  Horsham.  The  cloudy  sky  cast 
deep  shadows  with  the  sunbeams  over  the  rich,  wooded 
landscape,  as  no  clear  blue  sky  has  power  to  do,  and 
brought  to  my  mind  Mrs.  Browning's  lines  : 

..."  my  woods  in  Sussex  have  some  purple  shades  at  gloaming, 
Which  are  worthy  of  a  king  in  state,  or  poet  in  his  youth. 
********* 
Oh,  the  blessed  woods  of  Sussex,  I  can  hear  them  still  around  me, 
With  their  leafy  tide  of  greenery  still  rippling  up  the  wind  ! '' 

And  many  a  stately  home  did  we  see,  fit  for  her  "  who 
spake  such  good  thoughts  natural." 

Mrs.  Browning  is  said  to  have  written  Lady  Gerald- 
ine  in  a  few  hours,  lying  upon  a  sofa.  This  is  one  of 
the  proofs  cited  that  genius  does  its  work  as  if  by  inspi- 
ration, without  great  effort.  What  nonsense !  The 
Agave  Americana  bursts  into  flower  in  a  day  ;  but,  look 
you,  a  hundred  years  of  quiet,  unceasing  growth,  which 
stopped  not  night  nor  day,  was  the  period  of  labor  pre- 
ceding the  miracle — a  hundred  years,  during  all  of 
which  it  drank  of  the  sunshine  and  the  dews.  Scott 
wrote  some  of    his    best  works    in  a  few  weeks,  but 


Guildford.  65 

for  a  lifetime  he  never  flagged  in  his  work  of  gathering 
the  fruits  of  song  and  story.  Burns  dashed  off  "  A 
man's  a  man  for  a'  that "  in  a  jiffy.  Yes,  but  for  how 
many  years  were  his  very  heartstrings  tingHng  and  his 
blood  boiling  at  the  injustice  of  hereditary  rank!  His 
life  is  in  that  song,  not  a  few  hours  of  it. 


Guildford,  June  17. 
The  approach  to  Guildford  gives  us  our  first  real 
perfect  English  lane — so  narrow  and  so  bound  in  by 
towering  hedgerows  worthy  the  name.  Had  we  met 
a  vehicle  at  some  of  the  prettiest  turns  there  would 
have  been  trouble,  for,  although  the  lane  is  not  quite  as 
narrow  as  the  pathway  of  the  auld  brig,  where  two 
wheelbarrows  trembled  as  they  met,  yet  a  four-in-hand 
upon  an  English  lane  requires  a  clear  track.  Vegeta- 
tion near  Guildford  is  luxuriant  enough  to  meet  our 
expectations  of  England.  It  was  at  the  White  Lion 
we  halted,  and  here  came  our  first  experience  of  quar- 
ters for  the  night.  The  first  dinner  en  route  was  a 
decided  success  in  our  fine  sitting-room,  the  American 
flags,  brought  into  requisition  for  the  first  time  to  dec- 
orate the  mantel,  bringing  to  all  sweet  memories  of 
home.  During  our  stroll  to-day  we  stopped  at  a  small 
village  inn  before  which  pretty  roses  grew,  hanging  in 
clusters  upon  its  sides.  It  was  a  very  small  and  hum- 
ble inn  indeed,  the  tile  floors  sanded,  and  the  furniture 
of  the  tap-room  only  plain  wood — there  were  no  chairs, 
5 


66  Four-in-Hand  in  Britain, 

only  benches  around  the  table  where  the  hinds  sit  at 
night,  drinking  home-brewed  beer,  smoking  their  clay 
pipes,  and  discussing  not  the  political  affairs  of  the 
nation,  but  the  affairs  of  their  little  world,  bounded  by 
the  hall  at  one  end  of  the  estate,  and  the  parsonage 
at  the  other.  The  merits  of  the  gray  mare,  or  the 
qualities  of  the  last  breed  of  sheep  at  the  home  farm, 
or  the  new-fangled  plough  which  the  squire  has  been 
rash  enough  to  order.  The  landlady  told  us  that  she 
had  recently  moved  from  one  of  the  midland  towns 
to  this  village  to  secure  purer  air  for  the  children,  who 
had  not  been  thriving  well.  Her  husband  was  a 
gardener  and  worked  for  the  squire.  Two  pretty  little 
girls  were  brought  in  for  us  to  see,  true  Saxons,  with 
blue  eyes  and  light  colored  hair,  but  with  less  color 
in  their  sweet  innocent  faces  than  usual — the  result 
of  dirty,  crowded  Leeds,  no  doubt — but  soon  to  be 
changed  by  the  country  air.  The  eldest  girl  could 
not  have  been  more  than  six  or  seven  years  old,  but 
when  she  was  given  a  few  pence  she  went  to  the  next 
room  and  brought  a  sheet  of  paper  upon  which  were 
pasted  some  penny  postage  stamps.  She  was  going  at 
once  to  the  post  ofiFice  to  buy  more  stamps  with  her 
pennies.  On  inquiring  we  learned  that  the  Post  Office 
Department  receives  deposits  of  a  shilling  in  stamps 
and  allows  two  and  a  half  per  cent,  interest  I  think, 
upon  them,  and  "  the  squire "  God  bless  him !  had 
promised  all  the  children  upon  his  estates,  which  I  trust 


A  Genej^ous  Squire.  67 

were  vast,  that  whenever  they  saved  eleven  stamps  he 
would  give  the  last  one  to  complete  the  shilling.  In 
this  way  he  hopes  to  instil  into  the  young  the  impor- 
tance of  beginning  early  to  save  something  for  a  rainy 
day.  The  still  younger  girl  had  also  her  stamp  paper. 
The  English  are  an  improvident  race,  not  given  to 
denying  themselves  to-day  that  they  may  feast  later 
on.  "  Do  not  put  off  till  to-morrow  what  can  be  done 
to-day  "  is  generally  construed  to  mean,  that  the  cake 
may  as  well  be  eaten  at  once,  so  that  upon  the  whole 
we  were  not  displeased  to  see  these  children  trained  to 
accumulate  ;  but  nevertheless  it  did  seem  pitiful  that 
the  dear  little  lambs,  instead  of  sporting  without  a  care, 
should  have  so  early  to  learn  that  life  is  to  the  mass 
mainly  a  struggle  for  subsistence.  Civilization  is  a  fail- 
ure till  all  this  be  changed.  What  a  pity  the  name 
and  address  of  that  squire  are  mislaid.  He  evidently 
feels  that  property  has  its  duties  as  well  as  its  rights. 
The  village  and  the  inn  and  all  the  surroundings 
showed  that  the  Hall  was,  in  this  instance,  as  it  is 
in  so  many  others,  the  centre  and  source  of  good  influ- 
ences. *'  He  has  a  good  wife  and  earnest  thinking  and 
working  daughters,"  said  one  of  the  party.  Surely  he 
has  and  they  do  their  part  or  he  could  not  succeed.  It 
was  quite  safe  to  infer  this,  was  the  verdict.  Man  is 
a  poor  agency  for  such  work,  left  to  himself.  It  needs 
woman's  patience  and  glowing  sympathy  to  work  im- 
provement in  the  manners  and  customs  of  the  rural 


68  Four-iii'Hand  in  Britain. 

population.  Man  may  supply  the  money,  which  cor- 
responds only  to  barren  faith  among  the  virtues  ;  it  is 
to  woman  we  must  look  for  the  harvest — good  works. 

When  we  remounted  the  coach,  one  regret  found 
loud  expression,  and  as  the  Scribe  writes  to-day,  he 
wishes  the  omission  could  be  remedied.  Why  did  not 
we  give  these  children  a  shilling  each,  with  strict  injunc- 
tions to  gorge  themselves  with  taffy  and  gingerbread, 
not  a  penny  of  it  to  be  saved.  A  regular  spree  regard- 
less of  consequences  !  "  Oh  !  it  would  have  made  them 
ill,"  said  one.  Well,  suppose  it  did,  just  think  of  the 
legacy  left  them,  a  dream  for  years  that  they  had  been 
brought  to  death's  door  by  too  much  taffy  !  Why, 
the  sweet  taste  would  have  lingered  in  the  pretty 
little  mouths  till  womanhood,  and  they  would  have 
thought  about  their  illness  as  Conn  in  the  Shaughraun 
did  about  his  month  in  jail  for  taking  the  squire's 
horse  for  a  run  with  the  hounds :  "  Begorra !  it  was 
worth  it  !  " 

It  might  have  given  them  a  taste  for  dissipation,  and 
they  would  have  ceased  to  gather  stamps,  and  turned 
out  badly,  was  the  next  suggestion.  This  was  seem- 
ingly agreed  to  by  the  majority,  but  there  was  one  who 
wished  he  had  secretly  conveyed  to  the  cherubs,  at  least 
a  six-pence  each  to  be  entirely  devoted  to  gormandizing. 
"  Take  care  of  your  pence  and  the  pounds  will  take  care 
of  themselves,"  the  Queen  Dowager  remarked,  is  one 
of  Ben  Franklin's  wisest  proverbs.     There  was  one  at 


Franklins  Proverb.  69 

least  of  her  children  who  had  good  reason  to  re- 
member that  favorite  axiom.  During  his  temporary 
absence  from  school,  good  Mr.  Martin  had  instituted 
a  rule  that  each  one  in  the  class  should  repeat  a  prov- 
erb before  the  lessons  began.  Her  offspring  was  at  the 
foot  of  the  class,  from  absence  it  is  to  be  hoped,  and  as 
each  boy  and  girl  spoke  his  proverb  (they  were  taught 
together  in  those  days,  much  to  the  advantage  of  both 
sexes,  for  who  wanted  to  be  a  dunce  before  pretty 
and  clever  A.  R.)  they  had  an  unfamiliar  sound,  but 
when  his  turn  came  he  innocently  gave  them  his  moth- 
er's favorite  from  Franklin.  It  was  like  introducing  a 
strange  dog  into  a  crowded  church.  After  the  uproar 
had  subsided,  the  teacher  said  that  while  it  was  no 
doubt  a  very  good  proverb,  it  was  not  just  in  place 
among  the  sacred  proverbs  of  Solomon.  Another  story 
was  related  of  one  of  the  Charioteers  who,  when  told 
that  he  ought  to  sing  when  the  others  did  in  church, 
struck  up,  at  the  top  of  his  shrill  piping  voice,  "■  Come 
under  my  plaidie,  the  night's  going  to  fa' ;  "  when  the 
congregation  began  the  Psalm.  His  uncle  was  so  con- 
vulsed that,  notwithstanding  the  angry  glances  of  many 
near  him,  he  could  not  stop  the  performance  in  time 
to  prevent  an  unseemly  interruption. 

We  had  done  our  first  day's  coaching,  and  a  long 
day  at  that,  and  looking  back  it  is  amusing  to  remem- 
ber how  anxiously  we  awaited  the  reports  of  the  ladies 
of  our  party  ;  for  it  was  not  without  grave  apprehension 


'JO  Fouj'-in-Hand  in  Britain. 

that  some  must  fall  by  the  wayside,  as  it  were,  as  we 
journeyed  on.  One  who  had  tried  coaching  upon  this 
side  had  informed  us  that  few  ladies  could  stand  it ; 
but  it  was  very  evident  that  the  spirits  and  appetites  of 
ours  were  entirely  satisfactory,  and  they  all  laughed  at 
the  idea  that  they  could  not  go  on  forever.  The  Queen 
Dowager  was  quite  as  fresh  as  any.  It  was  a  shame 
that  general  orders  consigned  to  bed  at  an  early  hour 
two  of  the  ladies  thought  least  robust,  while  the  others 
walked  about  the  suburbs  of  Guildford  until  late. 
We  stood  in  the  thickening  twilight  in  front  of  an  ivy- 
clad  residence  for  some  time,  and  asked  each  other 
if  anything  so  exquisite  had  ever  been  seen,  so  full 
of  rest,  of  home.  The  next  morning  all  were  fresh 
and  happy,  without  a  trace  of  fatigue — full  of  yester- 
day, and  quite  sure  that  no  other  day  could  equal  it. 
But  this  was  often  said :  many  and  many  a  day  was 
voted  the  finest  yet,  only  to  be  eclipsed  in  its  turn  by  a 
later,  till  at  last  an  effort  to  name  our  best  day  led  to 
twenty  selections,  and  ended  in  the  general  conclusion 
that  it  was  impossible  to  say  which  had  crowded  within 
its  hours  the  rarest  treat,  for  none  had  all  the  finest, 
neither  did  any  lack  something  of  the  best.  But  there 
is  one  point  upon  which  a  unanimous  verdict  can 
always  be  had  from  the  Gay  Charioteers,  that  to 
such  days  in  the  mass  none  but  themselves  can  be 
their  parallel. 

We  ran  into  a  book-shop  in  the  morning  and  obtained 


CobbetCs  Opinion.  Ji 

a  local  guide-book,  that  we  might  cull  for  you  the  proper 
quotations  therefrom.  It  consists  of  148  pages,  mostly 
given  up  to  notices  of  the  titled  people  who  visited  the 
old  town  long  ago  ;  but  who  cares  about  them  ?  Here, 
however,  is  something  of  more  interest  than  all  those  no- 
bodies. Cobbett  says  of  Guildford,  in  his  "  Rural  Rides  :" 

"  I,  who  have  seen  so  many  towns,  think  this  the 
prettiest  and  most  happy  looking  I  ever  saw  in  my 
life."  There's  praise  for  you  !  But,  then,  he  had  never 
seen  Dunfermline.  Here  is  a  characteristic  touch  of 
that  rare,  horse-sense  kind  of  a  man.  He  is  enraptured 
over  the  vale  of  Chilworth. 

"  Here,  in  this  tranquil  spot,  where  the  nightingales 
are  to  be  heard  earlier  and  later  in  the  year  than  in  any 
other  part  of  England,  where  the  first  budding  of  the 
trees  is  seen  in  the  spring,  where  no  rigor  of  seasons  can 
ever  be  felt,  where  everything  seems  framed  for  pre- 
cluding the  very  thought  of  wickedness — this  has  the 
devil  fixed  on  as  one  of  his  seats  of  his  grand  manufac- 
tory, and  perverse  and  even  ungrateful  man  not  only 
lends  his  aid,  but  lends  it  cheerfully." 

Since  those  days,  friend  Cobbett,  the  devil  has  much 
enlarged  his  business  in  gunpowder  and  bank  notes,  of 
which  you  complain.  He  was  only  making  a  start  when 
you  wrote.  The  development  of  manufactures  in 
America  (under  a  judicious  tariff,  be  it  reverently 
spoken),  amazing  as  it  has  been,  and  carried  on  as  a 
rule  by  the  saints,  is  slow  work  compared  with  what  his 


72  Foitr-in-Hand  in  Britain. 

Satanic  majesty  has  been  doing  in  these  two  depart, 
ments.     We  must  bestir  ourselves  betimes. 

You  remember  Artemus  Ward's  encounter  with  the 
colporteur.  After  a  long,  dusty  day's  journey,  arriving 
at  the  hotel,  he  applied  to  the  barkeeper  for  a  mint-julep, 
and  just  as  Artemus  was  raising  the  tempting  draught 
to  his  lips,  a  hand  was  laid  upon  his  arm  and  the  opera- 
tion arrested.  The  missionary  in  embryo  said  in  a  kind 
of  sepulchral  tone,  for  he  was  only  a  beginner  and  had 
not  yet  reached  that  true  professional  voice  which 
comes  only  after  years  of  exhortation  :  "  My  friend, 
look  not  upon  the  wine  when  it  is  red.  It  stingeth  like 
a  serpent  and  it  biteth  as  an  adder."  "  Guess  not, 
stranger,"  replied  Artemus,  "  not  if  you  put  sugar  in  it." 

It  is  just  so  with  bank-notes,  friend  Cobbett.  They 
don't  bite  worth  a  cent,  neither  do  they  sting,  if  you 
have  government  bonds  behind  them.  But  this  was 
not  understood  in  your  day.  The  Republic  had  not 
then  shown  to  the  world  the  model  system  of  banking. 
The  objection  made  to  it  by  others,  viz.,  that  founded 
as  it  is  upon  the  obligations  of  the  nation,  its  discredit 
involves  the  fall  of  private  credit,  counts  for  little  to  a 
republican.  We  would  not  give  much  for  the  man  who  is 
not  willing  to  stake  "■  his  life,  his  fortune,  and  his  sacred 
honor  "  upon  the  solvency  of  the  Republic.  Pitiable  is 
the  man  who  could  think  of  his  petty  private  means 
when  his  country  was  in  peril.  When  the  Repubhc  falls, 
let  us  also  fall. 


American  Blessings.  73 

There  is  a  funny  thing  in  this  guide-book.  "  There 
also  resides  Mr.  Martin  Farquhar  Tupper,  the  author  of 
*  Proverbial  Philosophy,'  etc.  He  has  eulogized  the 
scene  around  as  follows."  Then  come  two  pages  of 
Tupper.  I  naturally  looked  to  see  the  name  of  the 
author  of  the  book,  but  none  was  given.  Such  modesty ! 
But  the  case  is  a  clear  one,  for  who  but  Tupper 
would  quote  Tupper!  "  Sir,"  said  Johnson  to  Bossy, 
"  Sir,  I  never  did  the  man  an  injury  in  my  life,  and  yet 
he  would  persist  in  reading  his  tragedy  to  me."  Here's 
the  concluding  quotation  from  the  guide-book  of  Guild- 
ford, and  the  Scribe  promises  not  to  quote  much  more 
from  any  similar  source.  Cobbett  says  that  in  Albury 
Park  he  saw  some  plants  of  the  "  American  cran- 
berry, which  not  only  grow  here,  but  bear  fruit,  and 
therefore  it  is  clear  that  they  may  be  cultivated  with 
great  ease  in  this  country." 

Potatoes,  tomatoes,  and  cranberries — look  at  the 
great  blessings  America  has  bestowed  upon  the  "  au- 
thor of  her  being ;"  and  what  won't  grow  in  the  rain 
and  fog  of  the  old  home,  doesn't  she  grow  for  her 
and  send  over  by  every  steamer,  from  canvas-back 
ducks  to  Newtown  pippins  !  Thackeray  was  right  in 
saying  one  night,  w4ien  some  friends  were  disposed  to 
criticise  America,  "  Ah !  well,  gentlemen,  much  can  be 
pardoned  to  a  country  which  produces  the  canvas-back 
duck."  At  dinner-tables  in  England,  nowadays,  to  the 
usual  grace,  '*  O  Lord  !    for  what  we  are  about  to  re- 


74  Four-in-Hand  m  Britain. 

ceivc  make  us  truly  thankful,"  should  be  added,  "  and 
render  us  truly  grateful  to  our  big  son  Jonathan,  God 
bless  him  ! " 

One  could  settle  down  at  the  White  Lion  in  Guild- 
ford, and  spend  a  month,  at  least,  visiting  every  day 
fresh  objects  of  interest,  and  I  have  no  doubt  becoming 
day  by  day  more  charmed  with  the  life  he  was  leading. 
In  every  direction  historical  scenes,  crowded  full  of 
instructive  stories  of  the  past,  invite  us :  and  yet  to- 
morrow morning  the  horn  will  sound,  and  we  shall  be 
off,  reluctantly  saying  to  ourselves,  we  must  return 
some  day  when  we  have  leisure,  and  wander  in  and 
around,  absorb  and  moralize.  This  rapid  survey  is  only 
to  show  us  what  we  can  do  hereafter.  A  summer  to 
each  county  would  not  be  too  much,  and  here  are 
eight  hundred  miles  from  sea  to  firth  to  be  rushed  over« 
in  seven  weeks.  Guildford,  farewell ! — on  "  to  fresh 
woods  and  pastures  new." 


Saturday,  June  i8. 
After  a  delightful  breakfast  we  mount  the  coach 
and  are  off  through  the  crowd  of  lookers-on  for  our 
second  day's  journey.  During  this  stage  we  learned 
the  valuable  lesson  that  we  should  not  attempt  to  coach 
through  England  without  having  the  ordnance  survey 
maps,  and  paying  close  attention  to  them.  In  this  part 
of  the  country,  so  near  to  monster  London,  the  roads 
and  lanes  are  innumerable,  and   run  here,  there,  and 


The  Scribe  as  a   Whip.  75 

everywhere.  You  can  reach  any  pohit  by  many  differ- 
ent roads.  Guide-posts  have  a  dozen  names  upon 
them.  We  did  some  saiHng  out  of  our  course  to-day, 
and  found  many  charming  spots  not  down  in  the  chart, 
which  the  straight  line  would  have  caused  us  to  miss ; 
it  was  late  ere  Windsor's  towers  made  their  appear- 
ance. The  day  was  not  long  enough  for  us,  long  as  it 
was,  but  the  fifty  miles  we  are  said  to  have  traversed 
were  quite  enough  for  the  horses.  But  next  day  would 
be  Sunday,  we  said,  and  they  had  a  long  rest  to  look 
forward  to  at  Windsor. 


Windsor,  June  18-20. 
Upon  reaching  the  forest,  the  General  Manager 
insisted  that  the  Scribe  should  take  the  reins  and  drive 
his  party  through  the  royal  domain.  This  was  his  first 
trial  as  the  whip  of  a  four-in-hand,  and  not  a  very  success- 
ful one  either.  It's  easy  enough  to  handle  the  ribbons, 
but  how  to  do  this  and  spare  a  hand  for  the  whip 
troubles  one.  As  Josh  Billings  remarks  in  the  case  of 
religion,  "  It's  easy  enough  to  get  religion,  but  to  hold 
on  to  it  is  what  bothers  a  fellow.  A  good  grip  is  here 
worth  more  than  rubies."  The  Scribe  had  not  the  grip 
for  the  whip,  but  it  did  give  him  a  rare  pleasure  when 
he  got  a  moment  or  two  now  and  then  (when  Perry 
held  the  whip),  to  think  that  he  was  privileged  to  drive 
his  friends  in  style  up  to  Her  Majesty's  very  door  at 
Windsor.  Only  to  the  door,  for  that  good  woman 
was  not  at  home,  but  in  bonnie  Scotland,  sensible  lady! 


76  Four-in-Hand  in  Britain. 

As  wc  were  en  route  ourselves,  we  were  quite  in  the 
fashion  ;  some  of  her  republican  subjects,  however,  were 
quite  disappointed  at  not  getting  a  glimpse  of  her 
during  the  tour. 

The  drive  through  the  grounds  gave  to  some  of  our 
party  the  first  sight  of  an  English  park,  and  it  is  certain 
that  the  impression  it  made  upon  them  will  never  be 
effaced. 

Windsor  at  last,  a  late  dinner  and  a  stroll  through 
the  quaint  town,  the  castle  towering  over  all  in  the 
cloudy  night,  and  we  were  off  to  bed,  but  not  before  we 
had  enjoyed  an  hour  of  the  wildest  frolic,  though  tired 
and  sleepy  after  the  long  drive.  We  laughed  until  our 
sides  ached,  but  how  vain  to  attempt  to  describe  the 
fun !  To  detail  the  trifles  light  as  air  which  kept  us  in 
a  roar  during  our  excursion  is  like  ofTering  you  stale 
champagne.  No,  no,  gone  forever  are  those  rare  noth- 
ings which  were  so  delicious  when  fresh ;  but,  for  the 
benefit  of  the  members  of  the  Circle,  I'll  just  say 
"  Poole,"  It  was  a  happy  thought  to  put  the  General 
Manager's  suit  of  new  clothes  in  Davie's  package  and 
await  results.  We  had  ordered  travelling  suits  in  Lon- 
don, and  when  they  arrived  we  all  began  to  try  them 
on  at  once,  Davie's  disappointment  at  getting  an  odd- 
looking  suit  fancied  by  the  General  Manager  was  so 
genuine  !  But  such  a  perfect  fit,  though  a  mistake, 
maybe,  as  to  material  ;  and  then,  when  he  tried  his  own 
suit,  what  a  misfit  it  was  !     The  climax:  "  David,  if  you 


Gladstone.  *]*] 

are  going  to  " — but  this  is  too  much  !  The  tears  are 
rolHng  down  my  cheeks  once  more  as  I  picture  that 
wild  scene. 

We  heard  the  chimes  at  midnight,  and  then  to  bed- 
Windsor  is  nothing  unless  royal.  It  is  all  over  royal, 
although  Her  Majesty  was  absent.  But  the  Prince  of 
Wales  was  there,  and  a  greater  than  he — Mr.  Glad- 
stone— had  run  down  from  muggy  London  to  refresh 
his  faded  energies  by  communing  with  nature.  It  is 
said  that  his  friends  are  alarmed  at  his  haggard  appear- 
ance toward  the  close  of  each  week ;  but  he  spends 
Saturday  and  Sunday  in  the  country,  and  returns  on 
Monday  to  surprise  them  at  the  change.  Ah  !  he  has 
found  the  kindest,  truest  nurse,  for  he  knows — 

.     .     .     "  that  Nature  never  did  betray 
The  heart  that  loved  her  ;  'tis  her  privilege, 
Through  all  the  years  of  this  our  life,  to  lead 
From  joy  to  joy  ;  for  she  can  so  inform 
The  mind  that  is  within  us,  so  impress 
With  quietness  and  beauty,  and  so  feed 
With  lofty  thoughts,  that  neither  evil  tongues, 
Rash  judgments,  nor  the  sneers  of  selfish  men, 
Nor  greetings  where  no  kindness  is,  nor  all 
The  dreary  intercourse  of  daily  life. 
Shall  e'er  prevail  against  us,  or  disturb 
Our  cheerful  faith,  that  all  which  we  behold 
Is  full  of  blessings." 

Mr.  Gladstone's  fresh  appearance  Monday  mornings 
gratifies  his  friends,  and  pleases  even  his   opponents, 


78  Four-in-Hand  in  Britain. 

for  such  a  man  can  have  no  ill-wishers,  surely.  When 
Confucius  had  determined  to  behead  the  emperor's 
corrupt  brother,  his  counsellors  endeavored  to  dis- 
suade him,  from  a  just  fear  that  the  criminal's  friends 
would  rise  and  avenge  his  death.  "  Friends !  "  said  the 
sage,  "  such  a  character  may  have  adherents,  but  friends 
never."  The  result  proved  his  wisdom.  No  revolt  came, 
though  Confucius  stood  by  to  see  justice  done,  refusing 
to  listen  to  the  petition  of  the  emperor  for  his  own 
brother's  life.  In  like  manner,  Mr.  ^Gladstone  may 
have  opponents — enemies  never.  All  Englishmen  must 
in  their  hearts  honor  the  man  who  is  a  credit  to  the 
race.  By  the  way,  he's  Scotch,  let  me  note,  and  never 
fails  to  bear  in  mind  and  to  mention  this  special  cause 
for  thankfulness.  I  suspect  that  this  fact  has  not  a  lit- 
tle to  do  with  the  intense  enthusiasm  of  Scotland  for 
him.  We  are  a  queer  lot,  up  in  the  North  Countrie, 
and  he  is  our  ain  bairn.  Blood  is  thicker  than  water 
everywhere,  but  in  no  part  of  this  w^orld  is  it  so  very 
much  thicker  as  beyond  the  Tweed. 

We  attended  church  at  Windsor  and  saw  the  great 
man  and  the  Prince  come  to  the  door  together.  There 
the  former  stopped  and  the  other  walked  up  the  aisle, 
causing  a  flutter  in  the  congregation.  Mr.  Gladstone 
followed  at  a  respectful  distance,  and  took  his  seat 
several  pews  behind.  How  absurd  you  are,  my  young 
lady  republican  !  Can  you  not  understand  ?  One  is 
only  the  leading  man  in  the  empire — a  man  who,  in  a 


Kings  and  Princes.  79 

fifty  years'  tussle  with  the  foremost  statesmen  of  the 
age,  has  won  the  crown  both  for  attainments  and  char- 
acter ;  but  the  other,  bless  your  ignorant  little  head ! — 
he  is  a  prince. 

Well,  if  he  is,  he  has  never  done  anything,  you  say. 
True,  but  what  are  kings  and  princes  for?  The  people 
of  England,  my  dear,  not  so  very  long  ago,  used  to  have 
it  beaten  into  them  that  ''  the  king  can  do  no  wrong." 
As  this  is  historically  the  true  doctrine  and  has  anti- 
quity on  its  side,  it  would  have  been  very  un-English  to 
reject  it ;  so  they  quietly  accepted  the  dogma  and  made 
it  true  by  arranging  that  the  king  should  never  be  al- 
lowed to  do  anything — it's  a  way  these  islanders  have — 
the  form  may  be  what  it  likes,  the  substance  must  be  as 
they  wish.  They  never  revolutionize  in  England — they 
transform.  What  you  complain  of  then,  my  red  repub- 
lican miss,  is  really  the  best  proof  that  the  prince  will 
make  that  modern  article  called  a  Constitutional  Mon- 
arch, and  spend  his  days  as  the  English  man-milliner 
Worth — setting  the  fashions,  laying  foundation  stones, 
and  opening  fancy  bazars.  Oh !  you  would  not  be 
such  a  prince  or  such  a  king.  The  Bruce  at  Bannock- 
burn,  at  the  head  of  his  countrymen  striking  for  the 
independence  of  Scotland,  and  King  Edward  leading 
his  hosts,  these  were  real  kings,  you  say  ?  The  kings  of 
to-day  are  shadows.  I  am  not  going  to  dispute  that 
with  you.  Miss  ;  times  have  changed  and  kings  with  them; 
but  were  I  Prince  of  Wales,  I  would  be  in  Ireland  to- 


8o  Four-in-Hand  in  Britam, 

day  investigating  the  causes  of  discontent  and  devising 
a  remedy  ;  and  above  all  showing  my  deep  and  abiding 
sympathy  with  that  portion  of  my  people.  This  would 
be  better  than  leading  men  to  murder  their  fellows — as 
your  heroes  did.  Oh  yes,  indeed,  says  my  young  lady 
politician,  I  should  like  to  be  the  Prince  of  Wales  just 
to  do  that.  What  a  hero  it  would  make  him  !  Why,  he 
would  rank  with  Alfred  the  Good,  or  George  Washing- 
ton. Why  doesn't  Mr.  Gladstone  suggest  this  to  him  ? 
I  believe  the  Prince  would  just  jump  at  the  chance. 
Well,  my  dear  girl,  drop  a  postal  card  to  the  grand  old 
man,  and  you  will  get  his  views  upon  the  subject  by 
return  mail.  The  conversation  ended  by  a  toss  of  the 
head,  and  "  Well,  I  would  if  I  were  a  man.  I  should  like 
a  chance  '  to  talk  it  up  '  to  the  Prince."  As  the  Prince 
is  an  admirer  of  pretty  American  young  ladies,  our 
friend  might  get  a  hearing  and  astonish  him. 

In  the  afternoon  we  attended  St.  George's  Chapel. 
In  one  of  the  stalls  we  saw  again  that  sadly  noble  lion- 
face — no  one  ever  mistakes  Gladstone.  He  sat  wrapped 
in  the  deepest  meditation.  He  is  very  pale,  haggard, 
and  careworn — the  weight  of  empire  upon  him ! 

"I  tell  thee,  scorner  of  these  whitening  hairs, 
When  this  snow  melteth  there  shall  come  a  flood.'' 

I  could  not  help  applying  to  him  Milton's  lines : 

.     .     .     "  with  grave 
Aspect  he  rose,  and  in  his  rising  seem'd 


The   Queen  Dowager.  8i 

A  pillar  of  state  :  deep  on  his  front  engraven 
Deliberation  sat  and  public  care  ; 
And  princely  counsel  in  his  face  yet  shone. 
Majestic  though  in  ruin." 

He  has  work  to  do  yet.  If  he  were  only  fifty  instead 
of  seventy  odd  !  Well,  God  bless  him  for  what  he  has 
done  ;  may  he  rule  England  long! 

A  memorable  event  occurred  at  Windsor,  Sunday, 
June  19th — the  Queen  Dowager  reached  her  seventy- 
first  year.  At  breakfast  Mr.  B.  rose,  and  addressing 
himself  to  her,  made  one  of  the  sweetest,  prettiest 
speeches  ever  heard.  He  presented  to  her  an  exqui- 
site silver  cup,  ornamented  with  birds  and  flowers,  and 
inscribed  :  "  Presented  to  Mrs,  M,  C,  at  Windsor,  by 
the  members  of  the  coaching-party,  upon  her  seventy- 
first  birthday."  Mr.  B.'s  reference  to  her  intense  love 
of  nature  in  all  its  glorious  forms,  from  the  tiny  gowan 
to  the  extended  landscape,  was  most  appropriate. 

We  were  completely  surprised ;  and  when  the 
speaker  concluded,  the  Scribe  was  about  to  rise  and 
respond,  but  a  slight  motion  from  Her  Majesty  apprized 
him  that  she  preferred  to  reply  in  person.  She  acquitted 
herself  grandly.  Her  speech  was  a  gem  (Mem. — it 
was  so  short).  After  thanking  her  dear  friends,  she 
said  : 

"  I  can  only  wish  that  you  may  all  have  as  good 
health,  as  complete  command  of  all  your  faculties,  and 
enjoy  flowers  and  birds  and  all  things  of  nature  as  much 


82  Four-in-Haiid  in  Britain. 

as  I  do  at  seventy-one."  Here  the  voice  trembled. 
There  were  not  many  dry  eyes.  The  quiver  ran 
through  the  party,  and  without  another  word  the  Queen 
sat  slowly  down.  I  was  very,  very  proud  of  that 
seventy-year  old  (I  am  often  that),  and  deeply  moved, 
as  she  was,  by  this  touching  evidence  of  the  regard  of 
the  coaching-party  for  her. 

This  incident  led  to  some  funny  stories  about  pres- 
entation speeches.  Upon  a  recent  occasion,  not  far 
from  Paisley,  Aggie  told  us,  a  worthy  deacon  had  been 
selected  to  present  a  robe  to  the  minister.  The  church 
was  crowded,  and  the  recipient  stood  expectantly  at  the 
foot  of  the  pulpit,  surrounded  by  the  members  of  his 
family.  Amid  breathless  silence  the  committee  entered 
and  marched  up  the  aisle,  headed  by  the  deacon  bearing 
the  gift  in  his  extended  arms.  On  reaching  the  pulpit 
a  stand  was  made,  but  never  a  word  came  from  the 
deacon,  down  whose  brow  the  perspiration  rolled  in 
great  drops.  He  was  in  a  daze,  but  a  touch  from  one 
of  the  committee  brought  him  back  to  something  like  a 
realizing  sense  of  his  position,  and  he  stammered  out,  as 
he  handed  the  robe  to  the  minister: 

"  Mr.  Broon, 
Here's  the  goon." 

You  need  not  laugh.  It  is  not  likely  that  you  could 
make  as  good  a  speech,  which,  I'll  wager,  is  far  better 
than  the  one  over  which  he  had  spent  sleepless  nights, 


SL   Georges  Chapel.  83 

but  which  providentially  left  him  at  the  critical  mo- 
ment. 

Windsor,  seen  from  any  direction  at  a  distance,  is 
par  excellence  the  castle — a  truly  royal  residence ;  but, 
seen  closely,  it  loses  the  grand  and  sinks  into  something 
of  prettiness.  It  is  no  longer  commanding,  and  is  in- 
significant in  comparison  with  the  true  castles  of  the 
North,  the  surroundings  of  which  are  in  keeping  with 
the  idea  of  a  stronghold,  and  take  you  at  once  to  the 
times  of  the  chieftain  and  his  armed  men.  There  is  noth- 
ing of  this  at  Windsor,  and  the  glamour  disappears  when 
you  begin  to  analyze.  Royalty's  famous  abode  should 
be  looked  at,  as  royalty  itself  should  be — at  a  safe  dis- 
tance. 

Service  at  St.  George's  Chapel  will  not  soon  be  for- 
gotten by  our  party.  The  stalls  of  the  Knights  of  the 
Garter,  over  the  canopies  of  which  hang  their  swords 
and  mantles  surmounted  by  their  crests  and  armorial 
bearings,  carry  one  far  back  into  the  days  of  chivalry. 
One  stall  arrested  and  held  my  attention — that  of  the 
Earl  of  Beaconsfield.  When  I  was  not  gazing  at  Glad- 
stone's face,  I  was  moralizing  upon  the  last  Knight  of 
the  Garter,  whose  flag  still  floats  above  the  stall.  Dis- 
raeli won  the  blue  ribbon  about  as  worthily  as  most  men, 
and  by  much  the  same  means — he  flattered  the  monarch. 
But  there  is  this  to  be  said  of  him  :  he  had  brains  and 
made  himself. 

What  a  commentary  upon  pride  of  birth,  the  flag  of 


84  Four-in-Hand  in  Britain. 

the  poor  literary  adventurer  floating  beside  that  of  my 
lord  duke's  !  It  pleased  me  much  to  see  it.  How  that 
man  must  have  chuckled  as  he  bowed  his  way  among 
his  dupes,  from  Her  Majesty  to  Salisbury,  and  passed 
the  radical  extension  of  the  suffrage  that  doomed  he- 
reditary privilege  to  speedy  extinction.  But  where  will 
imperialism  get  such  another  leader,  after  all  ?  It  has 
not  found  him  yet. 

"What  is  that  up  there?"  asked  one  of  our  party. 
"  The  royal  box,  miss."  Were  we  really  at  the  opera, 
then  ?  A  royal  box  in  a  church  for  the  worship  of  God  ! 
Did  you  ever  hear  anything  like  that !  There  is  a  royal 
staircase,  too.  Why  not  ?  You  would  not  have  royalty 
on  an  equality  with  us,  would  you,  even  if  we  are  all 
alike  miserable  sinners  and  engaged  in  the  worship  of 
that  God  who  is  no  respecter  of  persons. 

"  Well,  I  think  this  is  awful,"  said  one  of  the  party. 
"  I  don't  believe  the  good  Queen  would  go  to  church 
in  this  way,  if  she  only  thought  of  it.  Our  President 
and  family  have  their  pew  just  like  the  rest  of  us." 
Our  English  members  were  equally  surprised  that  the 
American  should  see  anything  shocking  in  the  practice, 
and  the  ladies  fought  out  the  matter  between  them- 
selves ;  the  Americans  insisting  that  the  Queen  should 
attend  worship  as  other  poor  sinners  do,  since  all  are 
equal  in  God's  eyes ;  and  the  English  saying  little,  but 
evidently  harboring  the  idea  that  even  in  heaven  spe- 
cial accommodations  would  probably  be  found  reserved 


Royal  Etiquette.  85 

for  royalty,  with  maybe  a  special  staircase  to  ascend  by. 
Early  education  and  inherited  tendencies  account  for 
much. 

The  staircase  question  led  to  the  story  that  the 
Marquis  of  Lome  was  not  allowed  to  enter  some  per- 
formance by  the  same  stair  with  his  wife.  The  Ameri- 
can was  up  at  this.  "If  I  had  a  husband,  and  he 
couldn't  come  with  me,  I  wouldn't  go."  This  made  an 
end  of  the  discussion,  for  the  English  young  lady's  eyes 
told     plainly  of    her    secret    vow   that    wherever  she 

went must  go  too.     All  were  agreed  on  this  point ; 

but  on  the  general  question  it  was  a  drawn  battle,  the 
one  side  declaring  that  if  they  were  men  they  would 
not  have  a  princess  for  a  wife  under  any  circumstances, 
and  the  other  insisting  that,  if  they  were  princesses,  they 
would  not  have  anybody  but  a  prince  for  a  husband. 

We  were  honored  while  here  by  the  presence  of  Mr. 
Sidney  G.  Thomas  and  his  sister,  who  came  down  from 
London  and  spent  the  day  with  us.  Mr.  Thomas  is  the 
young  chemist,  who,  in  conjunction  with  his  cousin 
Mr.  Gilchrist,  would  not  accept  the  dictum  of  the  au- 
thorities that  phosphorus,  that  fiend  of  steel  manu' 
facturers,  cannot  be  expelled  from  iron  ores  at  a  high 
temperature.  They  set  to  work  over  a  small  toy  pot, 
which  deserves  to  rank  with  Watt's  tea-kettle,  to  see 
whether  the  scientific  world  had  not  blundered.  Let 
me  premise  that  the  presence  of  phosphorus  in  pig 
iron  to  the  extent  of  more  than  about  one  tenth  of  one 


86  Fou7'-in-Hand  in  Biiiain. 

per  cent,  is  fatal  to  the  production  of  good  steel  by  the 
Bessemer  or  open  hearth  processes.  Do  what  you  will, 
this  troublesome  substance  persists  in  remaining  with 
the  iron.  If  there  be  phosphorus  in  the  iron-stone  you 
smelt,  every  atom  of  it  will  be  found  in  the  resulting 
iron  ;  and  if  there  be  any  in  the  limestone,  or  the  coke 
or  coal  used,  every  atom  of  it  also  will  find  its  way  into 
the  iron. 

It  is  essential,  therefore,  that  iron-stone  should  be 
found  practically  free  from  phosphorus ;  but  unfortu- 
nately such  ore  is  scarce,  and  therefore  expensive.  The 
great  iron-stone  deposits  of  England  are  full  of  the 
enemy;  so  are  those  of  America;  hence,  both  countries 
depend  largely  upon  ores  which  have  to  be  transported 
from  Spain  and  other  countries.  One  authority  esti- 
mates that  if  all  the  high  phosphorus  ores  in  Britain 
could  be  made  as  valuable  as  those  free  from  the  ob- 
jectionable ingredient,  the  saving  per  annum  would  go 
far  to  pay  the  interest  upon  the  national  debt.  Many 
have  been  the  attempts  to  devise  some  tempting  bait  to 
coax  this  fiend  to  forego  his  strange  affinity  for  iron, 
and  unite  with  some  other  element  ;  but  no,  his  satanic 
majesty  would  cling  to  the  metal. 

Messrs.  Thomas  and  Gilchrist,  in  studying  some 
highly  creditable  experiments  made  by  my  friend 
Lothian  Bell,  Esq.  (for  he  was  upon  the  right  track), 
discovered  an  oversight  which  seemed  to  qualify  the 
results  which  he  reached,  and  to  render  his  experiments 


Iro7i  and  Phosphorus.  87 

inconclusive.  It  was  possible,  they  thought,  that  his 
failure  might  have  resulted  from  the  fiend  not  being 
kept  out  when  he  was  out.  So  they  went  quietly  to 
work  with  their  toy  pot,  and  Eureka  !  Their  charm  had 
not  only  exorcised  the  fiend,  but  they  had  discovered 
how  to  lead  him  away  from  the  molten  metal  into  the 
refuse  and  shut  the  door  on  him  there.  Here  was  a 
triumph  indeed  !  I  fancy  they  neither  ate  nor  slept  till 
repeated  experiments  proved  that  the  true  charm  had 
been  found  at  last. 

Mr,  E.  Windsor  Richards,  the  broad  manager  of  the 
largest  manufactory  of  iron  and  steel  in  the  world,  was 
soon  acquainted  by  them  with  the  discoveiy.  He  tried  it 
upon  a  large  scale,  and  announced  the  end  of  the  reign 
of  King  Phosphorus  ;  but  he  dies  hard.  This  was  some 
years  ago,  for  I  read  the  good  news  a  few  minutes  after 
I  had  landed  at  Naples  from  the  East,  on  my  way 
round  the  world  in  the  year  1879.  Many  obstacles  had 
yet  to  be  surmounted,  but  now  every  ton  of  steel  man- 
ufactured at  Mr.  Richards's  great  works  is  made  from 
iron  stone  which  a  few  years  ago  was  counted  worth- 
less for  steel.  Enough  iron  stone  can  be  had  for 
three  dollars  to  make  a  ton  of  pig  iron  suitable 
for  steel  rails.  The  same  amount  of  low  phos- 
phorus stone  at  Pittsburgh  cost  last  year  sixteen 
dollars,  and  yet  there  are  intelligent  people  who  do 
not  understand  why  we  cannot  make  rails  as  cheap  as 
the  English. 


88  Fotir-in-Hand  in  Britain. 

I  wonder  if  I  could  explain  to  the  general  reader 
how  Messrs.  Thomas  and  Gilchrist  succeeded.  It  al- 
ways seems  to  me  like  a  fairy  tale — I  will  try.  In  mak- 
ing steel,  ten  tons  of  molten  pig  iron  is  run  into  a  big 
pot  called  a  converter,  and  hundreds  of  jets  of  air  are 
blown  up  through  the  mass  to  burn  out  the  silica  and 
carbon,  and  finally  to  make  it  steel.  Now,  phospho- 
rus has  a  greater  al^nity  for  lime  than  for  iron  when  it 
reaches  a  certain  temperature,  and  when  the  air  blast 
brings  the  mass  to  the  required  heat,  the  million  parti- 
cles of  phosphorus,  like  so  many  tiny  ants  disturbed, 
run  hither  and  thither,  quite  ready  to  leave  the  iron 
for  the  lime.  These  clever  young  men  first  put  a  lot 
of  lime  in  the  bottom  of  the  pot  as  a  bait,  and  into  this 
fly  the  ants,  perfectly  delighted  with  their  new  home. 
The  lime  and  slag  float  to  the  top  and  are  drawn  off — 
but  mark  you,  let  the  temperature  fall  and  the  new 
home  gets  too  cold  to  suit  these  salamanders,  although 
the  temperature  may  be  over  2,000  degrees,  hot  enough 
to  melt  a  bar  of  steel  in  a  moment  if  thrown  into  the 
pot.  No,  they  must  have  2,500  degrees  in  the  lime 
or  they  will  rush  back  to  the  metal. 

But  here  lay  a  dif^culty :  2,500  degrees  is  so  very  hot 
that  no  ordinary  pot  lining  will  stand  it,  and  of  course 
the  iron  pot  itself  will  not  last  a  moment.  If  ganister 
or  fire  brick  is  used  it  just  crumbles  away,  and  besides 
this,  the  plaguey  particles  of  phosphorus  will  rush  into 
it  and  tear  it  all  to  pieces.     The  great  point  is  to  get  a 


A  Modern  Moses.  89 

basic  lining,  that  is,  one  free  from  silica.  This  has  at 
last  been  accomplished,  and  now  the  basic  process  is 
destined  to  revolutionize  the  manufacture  of  steel,  for 
out  of  the  poorest  ores,  and  even  out  of  puddle  cinder, 
steel  or  iron  much  purer  than  any  now  made  for  rails 
or  bridges  can  be  obtained,  and  the  two  young  chemists, 
patentees  of  the  Thomas-Gilchrist  process,  take  their 
rank  in  the  domain  of  metallurgy  with  Cort,  Nelson, 
Bessemer  and  Siemens.  These  young  men  have  done  ] 
more  for  England's  greatness  than  all  her  kings  and 
queens  and  aristocracy  put  together. 

It  was  this  pale  Gladstonian-looking  youth  we  had 
with  us  for  the  day  and  for  our  Sunday  evening  dinner 
at  Windsor.  He  wears  no  title — he  is  too  sound  a 
Radical,  and  too  sensible  a  man  to  change  the  name 
his  honored  father  gave  him — but  nevertheless  we  felt 
we  had  one  of  the  great  men  of  our  generation  as  our 
guest.  If  it  be  true,  as  it  is,  that  he  who  causes  two 
blades  of  grass  to  grow  where  but  one  grew  before  is  a 
benefactor  to  the  race,  what  is  the  magician  who  takes 
from  the  bowels  of  the  earth  a  ton  of  dross,  and  trans- 
forms it  into  steel  before  our  eyes — strikes  with  his 
enchanted  wand  a  hundred  mines  of  worthless  stone 
and  turns  it  into  gold,  as  the  prophet  struck  the  dry 
rock  and  called  water  forth  ?  The  age  of  real  miracles 
is  not  over,  you  see,  it  has  only  begun,  and  Thomas 
is  our  modern  Moses ;  his  miracle  seems  as  much 
greater  than  that  of  his  prototype  as  the  nineteenth 


90  Four-in-Hand  in  Britam. 

century  is  advanced  beyond  that  of  the  Jewish  dispen- 
sation. 

Monday  was  another  thoroughly  English  day.  The 
silver  Thames,  that  glistened  in  the  sun,  was  enlivened 
by  many  stately  swans.  The  castle  towered  in  all  its 
majesty,  vivified  by  the  meteor  flag  which  fluttered  in 
the  breeze.  The  grounds  of  Eton  were  crowded  with 
nice-looking  English  boys  as  we  passed.  Many  of  us 
walked  down  the  steep  hill  and  far  into  the  country  in 
advance  of  the  coach,  and  felt  once  more  that  a  fine 
day  in  the  south  of  England  was  perfection  indeed. 
The  sun  here  reminds  one  of  the  cup  that  cheers,  but 
does  not  inebriate:  its  rays  cheer,  but  never  scorch. 
You  could  not  tell  whether,  if  there  were  to  be  any 
change,  you  would  prefer  it  to  be  a  shade  cooler  or  a 
shade  warmer. 

The  swans  of  Windsor  are  an  institution  almost  as 
old  as  the  castle  itself,  for  they  are  mentioned  in  rec- 
ords more  than  five  hundred  years  ago.  The  swan  is 
indeed  a  royal  bird,  and  it  is  said  that  no  subject  can 
own  them  when  at  large  in  a  public  river  except  by 
special  grant  from  the  crown.  Such  a  grant  is  accom- 
panied by  a  swan-mark  for  each  game  of  swans — the 
proper  term,  mark  you,  for  a  collection  of  the  noble 
birds.  You  may  say  a  flock  of  geese  but  not  of  swans ; 
a  game  of  swans,  please,  if  you  would  "  speak  by  the 
card."  The  corporation  of  Windsor  has  possessed  the 
right  of    keeping    swans  in  the  Thames   almost  from 


Stoke  Pogis.  91 

time  immemorial.  Formerly  the  king's  swanherd  made 
an  annual  expedition  up  the  river  to  mark  them.  He 
and  his  assistants  chased  the  poor  frightened  birds  in 
boats,  caught  them  roughly  with  long  hooks,  with  little 
deference  to  their  beautiful  plumage,  and  marked  them 
by  cutting  one  or  more  nicks  in  the  upper  mandible  of 
their  beaks.  This  expedition,  called  swan-upping  (cor- 
rupted into  swan-hopping),  is  still  made  by  the  deputies 
of  the  Dyers'  and  Vintners'  companies,  now  the  principal 
swan  owners  on  the  Thames,  the  mark  of  the  former 
being  one  nick  and  of  the  latter  two  nicks  on  the  bill. 

Stoke  Pogis  is  a  few  miles  out  of  our  direct  road,  but 
who  would  miss  that,  even  were  the  detour  double 
what  the  ordnance  survey  makes  it  ?  Besides,  had  not 
a  dear  friend,  a  stay-at-home,  told  us  that  one  of  the 
happiest  days  of  her  life  was  that  spent  in  making  a 
pilgrimage  to  the  shrine  of  the  poet  from  this  very 
Windsor?  Gray's  was  the  first  shrine  at  which  we 
stopped  to  worship,  and  the  beauty,  the  stillness,  the 
peace  of  that  low,  quaint,  ivy-covered  church,  and  its 
old-fashioned  graveyard,  sank  into  our  hearts.  Surely 
no  one  could  revive  memories  more  sweetly  English 
than  he  who  gave  us  the  Elegy.  Some  lines,  and  even 
verses  of  that  gem,  will  endure,  it  may  safely  be  pre- 
dicted, as  long  as  anything  English  does,  and  that  is 
saying  much.  We  found  just  such  a  churchyard  as 
seemed  suited  to  the  ode.  Gray  is  fortunate  in  his 
resting-place.      Earth  has  no  prettier,  calmer  spot  to 


92  Four-in-Hand  in  Britain. 

give  her  child  than  this.  It  is  the  very  ideal  God's  acre. 
The  little  church,  too,  is  perfect.  How  fine  is  Gray's 
inscription  upon  his  mother's  tomb !  I  avoid  ceme- 
teries whenever  possible,  but  this  seemed  more  like  a 
place  where  one  revisits  those  he  has  once  known  than 
that  where,  alas  !  we  must  mourn  those  lost  forever. 
Gray's  voice — the  voice  of  one  that  is  still,  even  the 
touch  of  the  vanished  hand,  these  seemed  to  be  found 
there,  for  after  our  visit  the  poet  was  closer  to  me  than 
he  had  ever  been  before.  It  is  not  thus  with  such  as 
we  have  known  and  loved  in  the  flesh — their  graves  let 
us  silently  avoid.  He  whom  you  seek  is  not  here ;  but 
the  great  dead,  whom  we  have  known  only  through 
their  souls,  do  come  closer  to  us  as  we  stand  over  their 
graves.  The  flesh  we  have  known  has  become  spiritual- 
ized ;  the  spirits  we  have  known  become  in  a  measure 
materialized,  and  I  felt  I  had  a  firmer  hold  upon  Gray 
from  having  stood  over  his  dust. 

Here   is   the   inscription  he  put  upon  his   mother's 

grave : 

"  Dorothy  Gray. 
The  careful,  tender  mother  of  many  children,  one  of  whom  alone 
had  the  misfortune  to  survive  her." 

The  touch  in  the  last  words,  "  the  misfortune  to 
survive  her !  "  — Carlyle's  words  upon  his  wife's  tomb 
recur  to  me : 

"  And  he  feels  that  the  light  of  his  life  has  gone  out." 

These  were  men  wailing  for  women.     I  cannot  be- 


Gray's   Tomb.  93 

lieve  but  that  there  are  many  women  who  would  pre- 
fer to  share  the  fate  of  men  who  die.  There  is  such 
love  on  earth.  Sujatas  are  not  confined  to  India.  As 
she  says  : 

"  But  if  Death  called  Sendni,  I  should  mount 

The  pile  and  lay  that  dear  head  in  my  lap, 

My  daily  way,  rejoicing  when  the  torch 

Lit  the  quick  flame  and  rolled  the  choking  smoke. 

For  it  is  written,  if  an  Indian  wife 

Die  so,  her  love  shall  give  her  husband's  soul 

For  every  hair  upon  her  head,  a  crore 

Of  years  in  Swerza." 

I  think  I  know  women  who  would  esteem  it  a  mercy 
to  be  allowed  to  pass  away  with  Jiiin,  if  the  Eternal  had 
not  set  his  "  canon  'gainst  self-slaughter."     This  prohi- 
bition the  Indian  wots  not  of,  but  mounts  the  pile  be- 
lieving as  thoroughly  as  Abraham  did  when  he  placed 
Isaac  on  the  altar,  that   God  wills   it  so.     They  were 
equally  mistaken ;  and  this  suggests  that  we  may  all  be 
very   much   surprised    when   we   come   to    understand 
rightly,  how  very  seldom  the  unknown   requires   any 
sacrifice  of  what  is  pleasing  to  us  in  this  present  world 
of  his.     It  seems  to  me  it  is  not  God  but  men  who  are 
disposed  to  make  the  path  so  very  thorny. 
Upon  Gray's  own  tomb  there  is  inscribed : 
"  One  morn  I  missed  him  on  the  accustomed  hill, 
Along  the  heath,  and  near  his  favorite  tree  ; 
Another  came,  nor  yet  beside  the  rill, 
Nor  up  the  lawn,  nor  at  the  wood  was  he." 


94  Four-in-Hand  in  Britain. 

One  perfect  gem  outweighs  a  thousand  mediocre  per- 
formances and  makes  its  creator  immortal.  The  world 
has  not  a  second  Gray's  Elegy  among  all  its  treasures. 
Nor  is  it  likely  to  have.  We  found  you  still  in  your 
accustomed  place. 

The  manor  house  of  Stoke  Pogis,  which  took  its 
name  from  a  marriage,  away  back  in  the  13th  cent- 
ury, between  a  member  of  the  Pogis  family  and  an 
heiress,  Amiciade  Stoke,  furnished  the  subject  of  Gray's 
"  Long  Story,"  a  poem  known  now  only  to  the  curious 
student  of  English  literature.  How  fortunate  for  the 
world  that  the  poet  did  not  let  his  reputation  rest 
upon  it ! 

The  old  house,  built  in  the  time  of  good  Queen 
Bess  on  an  older  foundation,  is  still  more  noted  as  the 
home  of  Sir  Edward  Coke,  the  famous  Lord  Chief  Jus- 
tice and  the  rival  of  Bacon.  Li  1601  Coke,  who  had 
married  three  years  before  a  wealthy  young  widow. 
Lady  Hatton  of  Hatton  House,  the  daughter  of  Lord 
Burleigh,  entertained  the  Virgin  Queen  at  Stoke 
Pogis  in  a  manner  befitting  the  royal  dignity  and  the 
length  of  his  own  purse.  Among  other  presents  which 
her  Majesty  graciously  deigned  to  accept  at  the  hands 
of  her  subject  on  the  occasion  was  jewelry  valued  at 
;^i,ooo,  a  large  sum  in  those  days. 

Coke's  marriage  did  not  turn  out  very  happily.  He 
was  old  enough  to  be  his  wife's  father,  and  she  always 
affected  for  him  the  utmost  contempt,  even  forbidding 


Chief  yustice  Coke.  95 

him  to  enter  her  house  in  London  except  by  the  back 
door.  The  poor  man  bore  his  hen-pecking  in  silence 
for  many  years,  but  at  last  she  went  one  step  too  far. 
During  his  absence  in  London  she  packed  up  and  re- 
moved from  Stoke  to  one  of  her  own  houses  his  plate 
and  other  valuables.  The  outraged  husband  forcibly 
entered  her  house  and  reclaimed  his  property,  taking, 
as  she  said,  some  of  hers  also.  This  led  to  legal  pro- 
ceedings, in  which  she,  through  the  aid  of  Bacon,  got 
the  better  of  him,  and  a  reconciliation  took  place. 

The  next  year  the  broil  took  another  phase.  Lady 
Hatton — she  always  refused  to  take  Coke's  name — had 
borne  him  a  daughter,  who  was  the  heiress  of  her 
mother's  estates  as  well  as  of  Coke's  wealth.  Her  hand 
had  been  sought  by  Sir  John  Villiers,  but  as  he  was 
poor  his  suit  had  been  rejected.  A  turn  came  in  the 
tide.  Coke,  shorn  of  most  of  his  honors,  was  in  disgrace, 
and  the  Duke  of  Buckingham,  Sir  John's  brother,  was 
King  James's  favorite  and  the  dispenser  of  immense 
patronage.  Coke,  with  the  object  of  winning  back  the 
royal  favor  and  of  humbling  Bacon,  his  great  enemy, 
now  determined  to  ally  himself  with  the  rising  house, 
and  offered  his  daughter  to  Villiers.  Lady  Hatton,  who 
had  not  been  consulted  in  the  matter,  refused  her  con- 
sent, ran  away  with  her  daughter,  and  concealed  her 
in  the  house  of  a  kinsman.  But  Coke  found  out  her 
hiding  place,  and  with  a  dozen  stout  fellows  broke  into 
the   house   and    seized  his   daughter.      Lady    Hatton, 


96  Four-in-Hand  in  Britain. 

aided  by  Bacon,  carried  her  case  to  the  privy  council 
and  Coke  was  proceeded  against  in  the  Star  Chamber. 
But  with  Buckingham  behind  him  the  old  lawyer  proved 
too  strong  for  Bacon  this  time,  and  succeeded  in  throw- 
ing his  wife  into  prison  and  in  forcing  her  to  consent  to 
the  match. 

The  marriage  took  place  at  Hampton  Court  in  the 
presence  of  the  king,  the  queen,  and  the  most  distin- 
guished of  the  nobility,  and  Frances  became  Lady  Vil- 
liers.  Stoke  Pogis  was  settled  on  the  bridegroom,  who 
was  shortly  raised  to  the  peerage  as  Viscount  Purbeck 
and  Baron  Villiers,  of  Stoke  Pogis,  and  Coke  flattered 
himself  that  his  troubles  had  at  last  ended.  But  the 
marriage  resulted  like  many  another  ill-assorted  union. 
Lady  Villiers,  after  driving  her  husband  nearly  to  the 
verge  of  distraction,  eloped  with  Sir  Robert  Howard, 
and  lived  for  many  years  an  eventful  and  scandalous 
life,  which  finally  brought  its  reward  in  her  degradation, 
imprisonment,  and  death. 

If  the  course  of  true  love  never  runs  smooth,  it  may 
be  taken  for  granted  that  the  stream  is  even  more  tem- 
pestuous when  marriage  is  made  a  matter  of  family 
alliance  with  no  love  at  all  in  the  matter.  Our  young 
ladies  were  unanimous  upon  this  point,  and  one  and  all 
declared  their  firm  resolve  and  readiness  to  trust  to 
**  true  love "  with  all  its  risks.  The  Queen  Dowager, 
being  appealed  to  by  them  for  support,  settled  the  mat- 
ter by  reciting  the  lines  of  an  old  Scotch  song : 


Royal  Visits.  97 

"  Lassie  tak  the  man  ye  loe 
Whate'er  ye're  minnie  say, 
Though  ye  sud  mak  ye're  bridal  bed 
Amang  pea  strae." 

So  ta-ta  all  worldly  considerations  and  family  alli- 
ances, and  the  rest  of  it,  say  the  wild  romps  of  the  Gay 
Charioteers. 

Several  years  after  the  death  of  Coke,  Stoke  Pogis 
was  for  a  short  time  the  place  of  confinement  of  Charles 
L,  who  could  see  from  its  windows  the  towers  of  Wind- 
sor Castle,  which  he  was  never  again  to  enter  except  as 
a  headless  corpse.  On  the  death  of  Viscount  Purbeck, 
who  resided  in  the  manor  house  after  Coke's  decease, 
Stoke  Pogis  passed  by  purchase  into  the  hands  of  the 
Gayer  family.  When  Charles  II.  came  to  his  own  again 
the  then  possessor  of  the  mansion  was  knighted,  and 
became  so  devoted  in  his  affection  for  the  Stuarts  that 
when  in  after  time  King  William  desired  to  visit  Stoke 
Pogis  to  see  a  place  so  rich  in  historical  associations,  the 
old  knight  would  not  listen  to  it.  In  vain  did  his  wife 
intercede:  he  declared  that  the  usurper  should  not  cross 
his  threshold,  and  he  kept  his  word.  So  it  came  to  be 
said  that  Stoke  Pogis  had  sumptuously  entertained  one 
sovereign,  been  the  prison  of  another,  and  refused  ad- 
mission to  a  third. 

We  were  told  that  quite  recently  Queen  Victoria 
had  visited  it  in  person,  with  a  view  to  its  purchase  for 
her  daughter,  and  while  walking  through  its  magnifi- 
7 


98  Four-ill- Hand  in  Britain. 

cent  suite  of  rooms  she  expressed  the  wish  that  her  own 
Windsor  had  their  equal.  She  finally  decided  to  pur- 
chase Claremont,  the  price  demanded  for  Stoke,  it  is 
said,  having  been  too  great  to  square  with  her  majesty's 
estimate  of  value.  It  is  in  the  market  to-day.  If  any  of 
our  bonanza  kings  want  one  of  the  stately  homes  of 
England,  rich  in  historical  associations  and  **  looking 
antiquity,"  here  is  his  chance. 

In  still  later  times  the  old  place  came  into  posses- 
sion of  the  Penn  family,  the  heirs  of  our  William  Penn 
of  Pennsylvania,  and  it  was  by  one  of  them,  John  Penn, 
that  the  cenotaph  to  Gray  was  erected — for  the  poet,  it 
will  be  remembered,  was  laid  in  his  mother's  tomb. 
This  same  Penn  pulled  down  much  of  the  old  house 
and  rebuilt  is  as  it  is  to-day. 

Our  luncheon  was  to  be  upon  the  banks  of  the 
Thames  to-day,  the  Old  Swan  Inn,  where  the  stone 
bridge  crosses  the  stream,  being  our  base  of  supplies ; 
but  ere  this  was  reached  what  a  lovely  picture  was  ours 
between  Stoke  Pogis  and  the  Swan  !  All  that  has  been 
sung  or  written  about  the  valley  of  the  Thames  is  found 
to  be  more  than  deserved.  The  silver  stream  flows 
gently  through  the  valley,  the  fertile  land  rises  gradu- 
ally on  both  sides,  enabling  us  to  get  extensive  views 
from  the  top  of  the  coach.  Our  road  lies  over  tolerably 
high  ground  some  distance  from  the  river.  Such  per- 
fect quiet,  homelike,  luxuriant  beauty  is  to  be  seen 
nowhere  but  in  England.     It  is  not  possible  for  the  ele- 


Skylarks,  99 

ments  to  be  combined  to  produce  a  more  pleasing  pict- 
ure ;  and  now,  after  seeing  all  else  between  Brighton 
and  Inverness  that  lay  upon  our  line,  we  return  to  the 
region  of  Streatley  and  Maple  Durham,  and  award  them 
the  palm  as  the  finest  thoroughly  English  landscape. 

We  say  to  the  valley  of  the  Thames  what  the  East- 
ern poet  said  to  the  Vale  of  Cashmere,  which  is  not 
half  so  pretty  : 

"  If  there  be  a  paradise  upon  earth, 
It  is  here,  it  is  here." 

The  Old  Swan  proved  to  be,  both  in  structure  and 
location,  a  fit  component  part  of  the  sylvan  scene 
around.  There  ran  the  Thames  in  limpid  purity,  a 
picturesque  stone  bridge  overhanging  it,  and  the  road- 
side inn  within  a  few  yards  of  the  grassy  bank. 

The  rugs  were  laid  under  a  chestnut  tree,  and  our 
first  picnic  luncheon  spread  on  the  buttercups  and 
daisies.  Swallows  skimmed  the  water,  bees  hummed 
above  us — but  stop  !  what's  that,  and  where  ?  Our 
first  skylark  singing  at  heaven's  gate  !  All  who  heard 
this  never-to-be-forgotten  song  for  the  first  time  were 
up  and  on  their  feet  in  an  instant ;  but  the  tiny  song- 
ster which  was  then  filling  the  azure  vault  with  music 
was  nowhere  to  be  seen.  It's  worth  an  Atlantic  voyage 
to  hear  a  skylark  for  the  first  time.  Even  luncheon  was 
neglected  a  while,  hungry  as  we  were,  that  we  might 
if  possible  catch  a  glimpse  of  the  warbler.     The  flood 


loo  Four -in-Hand  in  Britain. 

of  song  poured  forth  as  we  stood  wrapt  awaiting  the 
descent  of  the  messenger  from  heaven.  At  last  a  small 
black  speck  came  into  sight.  He  is  so  little  to  see — so 
great  to  hear ! 

I  know  several  fine  things  about  the  famous  song- 
ster: 

"  In  the  golden  lightning 

Of  the  sunken  sun, 
O'er  which  clouds  are  bright'ning, 
Thou  dost  float  and  run, 
Like  an  unbodied  joy  whose  race  is  just  begun." 

An  "  unbodied  joy  !  "  that's  a  hit,  surely  ! 

Here  is   Browning   on  the    thrush,   which    I  think 
should  be  to  the  lark : 

"  He  sings  each  song  twice  over. 
Lest  you  should  think  he  never  could  recapture 
The  first  fine  careless  rapture." 

The  third  is  just  thrown  in  by  the  prodigal  hand  of 
genius  in  a  poem  not  to  a  lark  but  to  a  daisy : 

"  Alas  !  it's  no  thy  neebor  sweet. 
The  bonnie  lark,  companion  meet. 
Bending  thee  'mang  the  dewy  weet, 

Wi'  speckl'd  breast. 
When  upward  springing,  blithe,  to  greet 

The  purpling  east." 

How  fine  is  Wordsworth's  well  known  tribute  : 

"  Type  of  the  wise,  who  soar  but  never  roam. 
True  to  the  kindred  points  of  Heaven  and  Home  ! " 


Reading  Abbey.  loi 

And  now  I  remember  Shakespeare  has  his  say  too 
about  the  lark — what  is  it  in  England  he  has  not  his 
say  about  ?  or  in  all  the  world  for  that  matter  ;  and  how 
much  and  how  many  things  has  he  rendered  it  the  high- 
est wisdom  for  men  to  keep  silent  about  after  he  has 
said  his  say,  holding  their  peace  forever. 

A  row  upon  the  silver  Thames  after  luncheon,  and 
we  are  off  again  for  Reading,  where  we  are  to  rest  over 
night  at  the  Queen's.  Reading  has  a  pretty,  new  park 
and  interesting  ruins  within  its  boundaries  which  we 
visited  before  dinner.  There  are  but  few  traces  left  of 
the  once  famous  Abbey,  founded  early  in  the  twelfth 
century  by  Henry  I.  In  the  height  of  its  prosperity 
more  than  two  hundred  monks  fattened  at  its  hospitable 
board,  and  its  mitred  abbot  sat  as  a  peer  in  Parlia- 
ment. It  was  noted,  too,  as  a  centre  of  learning,  but  the 
jolly  brethren  must  have  sadly  degenerated  in  this 
respect,  if  we  can  believe  the  report  of  the  royal  com- 
missioners in  temp.  Henry  VIII.,  for  Hugh  Cook,  the 
last  abbot,  who  was  hanged  and  quartered  near  his  own 
door  in  1539,  is  described  as  a  "  stubborn  monk,  abso- 
lutely without  learning."  But,  of  course,  all  who  believe 
that  the  much-married  Henry  was  a  monster  of  iniquity 
will  put  no  faith  in  the  reports  of  his  minions,  and  will 
continue  to  believe  that  Abbot  Hugh  was  a  holy  man 
of  God,  whose  shortcomings  in  the  small  matters  of 
orthography  and  syntax  were  more  than  made  up 
by  his  proficiency  in  vigils,  fastings,  and  prayers.     That 


102  Four-in-Hand  in  Britain. 

he  was  the  "  right  man  in  the  right  place  "  is  proven  by 
the  inventory  of  the  relics  found  in  his  keeping  by  the 
aforesaid  minions  at  the  time  of  the  suppression  of  the 
monastery.  Among  these  sacred  objects  were"twoo 
peces  of  the  holye  crosse,"  "  Saynt  James  hande,"  "  a 
bone  of  Marye  Magdelene,"  "  a  pece  of  Saynt  Pancrat' 
arme,"  and  **  a  bone  of  Saynt  Edwarde  the  martyr  is 
arme."  Can  it  be  possible  that  this  saintly  man,  who 
so  zealously  guarded  such  treasures  to  the  last  moment 
of  his  life,  should  still  be  allowed  to  suffer  under  the 
imputation  of  stubbornness  and  ignorance  !  He  mightn't 
just  have  been  "  one  of  those  literary  fellers,"  but  it  is 
very  clear  he  had  a  firm  grasp  of  the  "  fundamentals  "  of 
the  faith.  What  is  learning  compared  to  a  "  bone  of 
Saynt  Edwarde  "  as  a  means  of  keeping  the  sheep  in  the 
true  fold  !  The  old  abbot  knew  his  business  better  than 
Henry's  commissioners.  The  tooth  of  Buddha,  which  I 
went  to  see  when  in  Ceylon,  draws  crowds  from  all  parts 
of  the  island,  and  excites  more  piety  than  the  tom- 
tom, or  the  incantations  of  the  most  learned  priest. 
Truly  there's  nothing  like  a  relic  as  a  means  of  grace. 

A  pretty  lawn  in  the  rear  of  our  hotel  gave  us  an 
opportunity  for  a  game  of  lawn  tennis  in  the  twilight 
after  dinner,  and  in  the  morning  we  were  off  for  Ox- 
ford. The  editorial  in  the  Reading  paper  that  morning 
upon  emigration  struck  me  as  going  to  the  root  of  the 
matter.     Here  is  the  concluding  paragraph  : 

"  Already  the  expanding  and  prospering  industries 


Causes  of  Emigration.  103 

of  the  New  World  are  throwing  an  ominous  shadow 
across  the  Old  World  and  are  affecting  some  of  its  hab- 
its and  practices.  But  over  and  above  and  beyond  all 
these,  the  free  thought,  the  liberty  of  action,  the  calm 
independence  and  the  sense  of  the  dignity  of  man  as 
man,  and  the  perfect  equality  of  all  before  the  law  and 
in  the  eye  of  the  constitution  now  existing  in  America, 
are  developing  a  race  of  men  who,  through  correspond- 
ence with  home  relations,  the  intercourse  of  free  travel, 
the  transaction  of  business,  and  the  free,  outspoken 
language  of  the  press,  are  gradually  disintegrating  the 
yet  strong  conservative  forces  of  European  society,  and 
thus  preparing  the  downfall  of  the  monarchical,  aristo- 
cratic, military,  and  ecclesiastic  systems  which  shackle 
and  strangle  the  people  of  the  Old  World.  These 
thoughts  seem  to  me  to  convey  the  meaning  of  the 
great  exodus  now  going  on,  and  he  is  a  wise  statesman 
who  reads  the  lesson  aright." 

There's  a  man  after  my  own  heart.  He  grasps  the 
subject. 

The  editor  tells  one  of  the  several  causes  of  tlie 
exodus  which  is  embracing  many  of  the  most  valuable 
citizens  of  the  old  lands  where  class  distinctions  still 
linger.  Man  longs  not  only  to  be  free  but  to  be  equal, 
if  he  has  much  manhood  in  him  ;  and  that  America  is 
the  home  for  such  men,  numbers  of  the  best  are  fast 
finding  out.  But  England  will  soon  march  forward  ; 
she  is  not  going  to  rest  behind  very  long.     There  will 


I04  Four-in-Hand  in  Britain. 

soon  be  no  superior  political  advantages  here  for  the 
masses,  nor  educational  ones  either.  England  is  at 
work  in  earnest,  and  what  she  does,  she  does  well.  I 
prophecy  that  young  England  will  give  young  America 
a  hard  race  for  supremacy. 

Some  of  us  walked  ahead  of  the  coach  for  several 
miles,  and  I  had  a  chat  with  a  man  whom  we  met.  He 
was  a  rough  carpenter  and  his  wages  were  sixteen  shil- 
lings per  week  ($4).  A  laborer  gets  eleven  shillings 
(not  $2.75),  but  some  "  good  masters  "  pay  thirteen  to 
fourteen  shillings  ($3.25  to  $3.50),  and  give  their  men 
four  or  five  pounds  of  beef  at  Christmas.  Food  is  bacon 
and  tea,  which  are  cheap,  but  no  beef.  Men's  wages 
have  not  advanced  much  for  many  years  (I  should  think 
not !),  but  women's  have.  An  ordinary  woman  for  field 
work  can  get  one  shilling  per  day  (24  cents)  ;  a  short 
time  ago  ninepence  (18  cents)  was  the  highest  amount 
paid.  Is  it  not  cheering  to  find  poor  women  getting  an 
advance  ?  But  think  what  their  condition  still  is,  when 
one  shilling  per  day  is  considered  good  pay !  I  asked 
whether  employers  did  not  board  the  workers  in  addition 
to  paying  these  wages,  but  he  assured  me  they  did  not. 
This  is  southern  England  and  these  arc  agricultural 
laborers,  but  the  wages  seem  distressingly  low  even  as 
compared  with  British  wages  in  general.  The  new  sys- 
tem of  education  and  the  coming  extension  of  the  suf- 
frage to  the  counties  will  soon  work  a  change  among 
these  poor  people.     They  will  not  rest  content  crowd- 


Oxford.  105 

ing  each  other  down  thus  to  a  pittance  when  they  can 
read  and  write  and  vote.     Thank  fortune  for  this 

Our  ladies  were  unusually  gay  in  their  decorations 
to-day,  with  bunches  of  wild  flowers  on  their  breasts 
and  hats  crowned  with  poppies  and  roses.  They  decked 
the  Queen  Dowager  out  until  she  looked  as  if  ready  to 
play  Ophelia.  Their  smiles  too  were  as  pretty  as  their 
flowers.  What  an  embodied  joy  bright,  happy  ladies  are 
under  all  conditions,  and  how  absolutely  essential  for  a 
coaching  party !  Was  it  not  Johnson's  idea  of  happi- 
ness to  drive  in  a  gig  with  a  pretty  woman  ?  He  wasn't 
much  of  a  muff  !  If  anything  could  have  kept  him  in 
good  humor,  this  would  have  done  it.  If  he  could  have 
been  on  top  of  a  coach  with  a  bevy  of  them,  not  even 
he  could  have  said  a  rude  thing. 

Oxford  was  reached  before  the  sun  went  down.  Its 
towers  were  seen  for  miles — Magdalen,  Baliol,  Christ 
Church,  and  other  familiar  names.  We  crossed  the 
pretty  little  Isis,  marvelling  at  every  step,  and  drove  up 
the  High  Street  to  the  Clarendon. 

The  next  day  was  to  be  Commencement,  and  only  a 
few  rooms  were  to  be  had  in  the  hotel,  but  we  were  dis- 
tributed very  comfortably  among  houses  in  the  neigh- 
borhood. Several  hours  before  dinner  were  delightfully 
spent  in  a  grand  round  of  the  colleges.  We  peeped  into 
the  great  quads,  walked  the  cloisters,  and  got  into  all 
kinds  of  queer  old-fashioned  places.  But  the  stroll  along 
the  Isis,  and  past  Magdalen  Tower,  and  up  the  long' 


io6  Foicr-in-Ha7id  in  Britain. 

walk — that  was  the  grand  finish !  We  pardon  Wolsey 
his  greed  of  getting,  he  was  so  princely  in  giving.  To 
the  man  who  did  so  much  for  Oxford  much  may  be  for- 
given. 


Oxford,  June  21. 

This  morning  was  devoted  to  visiting  the  principal 
colleges  more  in  detail,  and  also  to  the  ascent  of  the 
tower  of  the  Sheldonian  Theatre,  which  no  one  should 
ever  miss  doing.  Below  us  lay  the  city  of  palaces,  for 
such  it  seems,  palaces  of  the  right  kind  too — not  for  idle 
kings  or  princes  to  riot  in,  and  corrupt  society  by  their 
bad  example,  but  for  those  who  "  scorn  delights  and  live 
laborious  days." 

Our  Cambridge  member,  Mr.  B.,  tells  us  it  does  not 
cost  more  than  £200  ($1,000)  per  annum  for  a  student 
here.  This  seems  very  cheap.  The  tariff  which  we  saw 
in  one  of  the  halls  gave  us  a  laugh  : 

"  Commons. 
Mutton,  long,   \\d. 
do.        short,    9^. 
do.        half,      'jdr 

The  long  and  the  half  we  could  understand,  but  how 
could  they  manage  the  short  ?  This  must  be  a  kind  of 
medium  portion  for  fellows  whose  appetites  are  only 
so-so.  You  see  how  fine  things  are  cut  even  in  Oxford. 
Our  party  thought  if  the  students  were  coaching  there 
would  be  little  occasion  for  them  to  know  anything  of 


Martyrs.  107 

either  short  or  half.     At  least  we  were  all  in  for  long 
commons  at  eleven  pence. 

We  drove  past  the  martyrs'  memorial,  Latimer  and 
Ridley's.  Cranmer  does  not  deserve  to  be  named  with 
them.  A  visit  to  such  a  monument  always  does"  me 
good,  for  it  enables  me  to  say  to  those  who  doubt  the 
real  advancement  of  mankind  :  Now  look  at  this,  and 
think  for  what  these  grand  men  were  burnt !  Is  it  con- 
ceivable that  good,  sterling  men  shall  ever  again  be 
called  upon  in  England  to  die  for  opinion's  sake  !  That 
Cranmer  wrote  and  advocated  the  right  and  necessity 
of  putting  to  death  those  who  differed  from  him,  and 
therefore  that  he  met  the  fate  he  considered  it  right  to 
mete  to  others,  shows  what  all  parties  held  in  those 
dark  days.  I  claim  that  the  world  has  made  a  distinct 
and  permanent  advance  in  this  department  which  in  no 
revolving  circle  of  human  affairs  is  ever  to  be  lost.  The 
persecution  of  the  Rev.  Mr.  Green,  of  Professor  Robert- 
son Smith,  and  of  Bishop  Colenso  in  the  present  day 
proves,  no  doubt,  that  there  is  much  yet  to  be  done  ere 
we  can  be  very  proud  of  our  progress  ;  but  these  are  the 
worst  of  to-day's  persecutions,  and  could  occur  only  in 
England  and  Scotland.  There  is  a  long  gap  between 
them  and  burning  at  the  stake !  Grand  old  Latimer 
was  prophetic  when  he  called  out  from  amid  the  fag- 
gots to  his  colleague :  "  Be  of  good  comfort  and  play 
the  man ;  we  shall  this  day  light  such  a  candle  by  God's 
grace  as  I  trust  shall  never  be  put  out !  " 


Io8  Four-in-Hand  in  Britain. 

I  think  it  certain  that  the  candle  will  never  again  be 
put  out.  The  bigots  of  to-day  can  annoy  only  in 
Britain.  In  other  English-speaking  communities  even 
that  power  has  passed  away,  and  persecution  for  opin- 
ion's sake  is  unknown.  "  A  man  may  say  the  thing  he 
will " — there  is  a  further  and  a  higher  stage  yet  to  be 
reached  when  a  man  will  consider  it  a  man's  part  to 
have  an  opinion  upon  all  matters  and  say  what  he  thinks 
boldly,  concealing  nothing. 

We  left  Oxford  with  just  a  sprinkle  of  rain  falling, 
but  we  had  scarcely  got  fairly  out  of  the  city  when  it 
ceased  and  left  the  charming  landscape  lovelier  than 
ever.  Banbury  Cross  was  our  destination,  and  on  our 
route  lay  magnificent  Blenheim,  the  estate  given  by  the 
nation  to  the  Duke  of  Marlborough.  See  what  the 
nations  do  for  the  most  successful  murderers  of  their 
fellows !  and  how  insignificant  have  ever  been  the  re- 
wards of  those  who  preserve,  improve,  or  discover — for 
a  Marlborough  or  a  Wellington  a  fortune,  for  a  Howard 
or  a  Wilberforce  a  pittance.  It  is  only  in  heathen  China 
that  the  statesman,  the  man  of  letters,  heads  the  list. 
No  military  officer,  however  successful  as  a  destroyer, 
can  ever  reach  the  highest  rank  there,  for  with  them  the 
victories  of  peace  are  more  renowned  than  those  of  war ; 
that  is  reserved  for  the  men  who  know — the  Gladstones 
and  the  Disraelis,  the  Darwins  and  the  Spencers,  the 
Arnolds  and  the  Ruskins.  It  is  only  in  civilized  coun- 
tries that  the  first  honors  are  given  to  butchers. 


Blenheim.  1 09 

Blenheim  is  superb,  grand,  and  broad  enough  to  sat- 
isfy princely  tastes.  And  that  noble  library !  As  we 
walked  through  it  we  felt  subdued,  as  if  in  the  presence 
of  the  gods  of  ages  past,  for  a  worthy  collection  of  great 
books  ever  breathes  forth  the  influence  of  kings  dead 
yet  present,  of 

"  Those  dead  but  sceptred  sovereigns 
Whose  spirits  still  rule  us  from  their  urns." 

And  to  think  that  this  library,  in  whose  treasures  we 
revelled,  reverently  taking  one  old  tome  after  another  in 
our  hands,  has  since  then  been  sold  by  auction !  De- 
generate wretch !  but  one  descended  from  Marlborough 
can  scarcely  be  called  degenerate.  You  may  not  even 
be  responsible  for  what  seems  like  family  dishonor ; 
some  previous  heir  may  have  rendered  the  sale  neces- 
sary ;  but  the  dispersion  of  such  treasures  as  these  must 
surely  open  the  eyes  of  good  men  in  England  to  the 
folly  of  maintaining  hereditary  rank  and  privilege.  Per- 
haps, however,  the  noble  owner  had  no  more  use  for  his 
books  than  the  lord  whose  library  Burns  was  privileged 
to  see,  which  showed  no  evidences  of  usage.  The  bard 
wrote  in  a  volume  of  Shakespeare  he  took  up : 

"  Through  and  through  the  inspired  leaves, 
Ye  maggots,  make  your  windings  ; 
But  oh  !  respect  his  lordship's  taste 
And  spare  his  golden  bindings." 

With  many  notable  exceptions,  the  aristocracy  of 
Britain  took  its  rise  from  bad  men  who  did  the  dirty 


no  Four-in-Hand  in  Britain. 

work  of  miserable  kings,  and  from  women  who  were 
even  worse  than  their  lords.  It  seems  hastening  to  an 
end  in  a  manner  strictly  in  accordance  with  its  birth. 
Even  Englishmen  will  soon  become  satisfied  that  no 
man  should  be  born  to  honors,  but  that  these  should  be 
reserved  for  those  who  merit  them.  But  what  kind  of 
fruit  could  be  expected  from  the  tree  of  privilege  ?  Its 
roots  lie  in  injustice,  and  not  the  least  of  its  evils  are 
those  inflicted  upon  such  as  are  born  under  its  shadow. 
The  young  peer  who  succeeds  in  making  somebody  of 
himself  does  so  in  spite  of  a  vicious  system,  and  is  en- 
titled to  infinite  praise ;  but  though  our  race  is  slow  to 
learn,  the  people  hear  a  wee  bird  singing  these  stirring 
days,  and  they  begin  to  like  the  song.  The  days  of 
rank  are  numbered. 


Banbury,  June  22. 
Banbury  Cross  was  reached  about  five  o'clock,  and 
few  of  us  were  so  far  away  in  years  or  feeling  from  the 
days  of  childhood  as  not  to  remember  the  nursery 
rhyme  which  was  repeated  as  we  came  in  sight  of  the 
famous  Cross.  We  expected  to  see  a  time-worn  relic  of 
days  long  past,  and  I  verily  believe  that  some  of  us 
hoped  for  a  glimpse  of  the  old  lady  on  the  white  horse, 
with  "  rings  on  her  fingers,  and  bells  on  her  toes."  Im- 
agine our  disappointment,  then,  when  we  saw  an  elabo- 
rate Gothic  structure,  looking  as  new  and  modern  as  if 
it  had  received  its  finishing  touches  but  yesterday.     And 


Banbury  Cross.  iii 

so  indeed  it  had,  for  it  was  recently  erected  by  public 
subscription.     The  charm  was  gone. 

I  like  new  political  institutions  for  my  native  land, 
but  prefer  the  old  historical  structures ;  and  as  we  drove 
past  this  spick-and-span  imitation  of  antiquity  I  felt  like 
criticising  the  good  people  of  Banbury  for  the  sacrilege 
I  supposed  they  had  committed  in  thus  supplanting  the 
ancient  landmark  which  had  made  their  town  known 
the  wide  world  over.  I  could  not  help  entertaining  a 
hope,  too,  that  the  original  "  goodly  Crosse  with  many 
degrees  about  it,"  had  been  put  away  in  some  museum 
or  other  safe  place  where  it  could  receive  the  homage 
of  all  devoted  lovers  of  Mother  Goose.  Alas !  inquiry 
developed  the  fact  that  the  Puritanic  besom  of  destruc- 
tion, which  demolished  so  many  images  and  other  orna- 
ments in  the  churches  in  good  Queen  Bess's  time,  swept 
away  Banbury  Cross  as  early  as  1602,  and  that  not  a 
piece  of  it  remains  to  tell  of  its  ancient  glory. 

Banbury  was  early  noted  as  a  stronghold  of  Puritan- 
ism, and  was  famous,  as  Fuller  says,  for  "  zeale,  cheese 
and  cakes."  The  zeal  and  the  cheese  are  not  now  as 
strong  as  they  were,  but  Banbury  cakes  are  still  in  as 
high  repute  as  ever,  and  are  largely  made  and  exported. 
They  are  probably  the  same  now  as  in  the  days  of  Ben 
Jonson,  who  tells  of  them  in  "  Bartholomew  Fair," — a 
kind  of  miniature  mince  pie,  generally  lozenge-shaped, 
consisting  of  a  rich  paste  with  a  filling  of  Zante  currants 
and  other  fruits. 


112  Four-in-Hand  in  Britain. 

Banbury  has  the  celebrated  works  of  my  friend,  Mr. 
Samuelson,  M.P. ;  and  before  dinner  I  walked  out  to  see 
them,  and  if  possible  to  learn  something  of  Mr.  Samuel- 
son's  whereabouts.  Upon  returning  to  the  hotel  I 
found  that  he  was  at  that  moment  occupying  the  sit- 
ting-room adjoining  ours.  We  had  an  evening's  talk 
and  compared  notes  as  brother  manufacturers.  If  Eng- 
land and  America  are  drawing  more  closely  together 
politically,  it  is  also  true  that  the  manufacturers  of  the 
two  countries  have  nearly  the  same  problems  to  settle. 
Mr.  Samuelson  was  deep  in  railway  discriminations  and 
laboring  with  a  parliamentary  commission  to  effect 
changes,  or  rather,  as  he  would  put  it,  to  obtain  jus- 
tice. 

I  gave  an  account  of  our  plans,  our  failures,  and 
our  successes,  of  which  he  took  note.  This  much  I  am 
bound  to  say  for  my  former  colleagues  upon  this  side 
(for  before  I  reformed  I  was  a  railway  manager),  that 
the  manufacturers  of  Britain  have  wrongs  of  which  we 
know  nothing  here,  though  ours  are  bad  enough.  I  add 
the  last  sentence  lest  Messrs.  Vanderbilt,  Roberts,  Cas- 
satt,  and  the  Garretts  (father  and  son),  might  receive  a 
wrong  impression  from  the  previous  admission  ;  for  these 
are  the  gentlemen  upon  whom  our  fortunes  hang. 

The  evidence  given  before  the  Parliament  Commis- 
sion in  Britain,  proves  that  the  people  there  are  sub- 
jected to  far  worse  treatment  at  the  hands  of  railway 
companies  than  we  are  here.     American  grain  is  trans- 


Political  Economy  Club.  1 1 3 

ported  from  Liverpool  to  London,  for  one-half  the  rate 
charged  upon  English  grain  from  points  near  Liverpool 
— I  give  this  as  one  instance  out  of  hundreds.  The 
defence  of  the  railway  company  is  that  unless  they 
carry  the  foreign  article  at  half  rates  the  ships  will 
carry  it  to  London  direct,  or  that  it  will  go  by  sea  from 
Liverpool.  I  attended  a  meeting  of  the  Political 
Economy  Club,  in  London,  where  the  question  of  legis- 
lative interference  with  railway  charges  was  ably  dis- 
cussed. The  prevalent  opinion  seemed  to  be  that  it  was 
doubtful  whether  the  evils  could  be  cured  by  legislation. 
Being  called  upon  to  state  our  experience  here,  I  gave 
them  an  account  of  the  unwise  policy  pursued  by  the 
Pennsylvania  Railroad  Company  (now  happily  reversed) 
at  Pittsburgh  and  its  consequences ;  for  the  great  riot  in 
Pittsburgh  had  for  its  real  source  the  practice  of  the 
Railway  Company  of  carr^ang  the  manufactures  of  the 
East,  from  New  York  and  Philadelphia,  through  the 
city  of  Pittsburgh  to  the  West  for  less  than  it  would 
carry  the  same  articles  for  from  Pittsburgh,  although 
the  distance  was  twice  as  great.  Many  such  anomalies 
as  this  still  exist  in  England. 

The  members  seemed  interested  in  hearing  that  the 
result  was  that  the  railway  company  finally  agreed  that 
in  no  case  should  the  rates  to  and  from  the  shorter  ex- 
ceed those  charged  for  the  greater  distance,  and  Pitts- 
burgh manufactures  are  now  taken  East  and  West  at 
ten   per   cent,   less   than    the    through   rates  between 


1 1 4  Four-in-Hand  in  Britai7i. 

Chicago  and  the  seaboard,  no  matter  how  these  may  be 
forced  by  competition.  While  this  rule  does  not  ensure 
exact  justice  nor  cover  all  cases,  it  is  nevertheless  a  great 
step  in  advance  and  removes  most  of  the  more  serious 
causes  for  just  complaint. 

The  club  spoken  of  is  a  notable  one.  It  consists  of 
twenty-five  members,  only  vacancies  caused  by  death 
being  filled  by  election.  Admission  is  considered  a 
great  honor.  It  is  said  that  every  question  within  the 
range  of  practical  politics  upon  which  the  club  has  de- 
clared its  opinion,  has  been  legislated  upon  within  a 
short  time  in  accordance  with  its  decision.  Every  mem- 
ber is  well  known  and  must  have  a  national  reputation. 
Among  those  present  were  Sir  John  Lubbock,  who 
learnt  early  in  youth  a  rare  secret,  the  way  to  learn — 
"  consider  the  ways  of  the  ant,  and  be  wise  " — and  Mr.  Faw- 
cett,  the  blind  Postmaster-General,  a  man  whose  career 
proves,  as  clearly  perhaps  as  ever  was  proved,  the  truth 
that  there  is  no  difficulty  to  him  who  wills. 

Mr.  Leonard  Courtney,  one  of  the  coming  men,  took 
a  leading  part  in  the  discussion  on  railways  ;  Mr.  Giffen, 
however,  read  the  paper  of  the  evening,  which  of  course 
was  able,  although  on  the  wrong  side,  as  I  think.  He 
is  the  noted  man  of  figures,  whose  recent  article,  read 
before  the  Statistical  Society,  showing  the  hundreds  of 
millions  America  is  soon  to  contain,  produced  so  start- 
ling an  effect  here,  as  well  as  in  Europe.  Mr.  Shaw  Le 
Fevre,  Lord  Sherbrooke  (Robert  Lowe),  and  the  father 


Satires  and  Epigra77is.  115 

of  the  Corn  Law  Repeal  movement,  Mr.  Villiers,  and 
several  others  of  note  were  present. 

I  was  indebted  to  one  of  the  members,  my  friend 
Prof.  Thorold  E.  Rogers,  M.P.,  for  the  coveted  oppor- 
tunity to  visit  this  club.  By  the  way,  I  wonder  the 
Professor's  book  of  Satires  and  Epigrams  has  not  been 
republished  in  America.  It  is  wonderfully  clever,  and 
the  Charioteers  have  had  many  a  laugh  and  many  a 
pleasant  half  hour  enjoying  it. 

Here  is  a  specimen,  which  I  may  be  pardoned  quot- 
ing, as  I  found  upon  inquiry  that  the  hero  Brown  was 
no  less  than  one  of  my  own  friends,  a  Dunfermline  man 
too,  at  that,  Mr.  Reid,  M.P. : 

"  Sent  to  a  distant  land  in  early  youth, 
Brown  made  his  way  by  honor,  thrift,  and  truth  ; 
Ten  years  he  worked  and  saved,  then,  satisfied, 
Back  to  his  native  land  our  merchant  hied. 
A  man  of  worth  as  well  as  wealth,  he  sought 
How  he  might  wisely  use  the  cash  he'd  brought : 
He  clearly  saw  his  fortune  could  be  graced 
Only  by  prudence,  candor,  judgment,  taste  ; 
Assumed  no  airs,  indulged  in  no  pretence. 
Guided  his  words,  his  acts,  by  common  sense  ; 
Maintained  his  self-respect,  though  glad  to  please, 
Seemed  not  to  aim,  but  won  his  aims  with  ease, 
And  proved  that  he  had  learnt  the  highest  tact,    - 
When  no  one  feared  and  no  one  dared  detract. 
(I  don't  say  hate,  for  some  men  are  so  nice 
They  cannot  bear  a  man  without  a  vice) ; 


1 1 6  Four-in-Hand  in  Britain. 

Well,  such  a  hater,  with  a  well-bred  sneer, 

(He  took  good  care  that  all  the  room  could  hear) : 

Said,  '  Dawdle  asked  me.  Brown,  if  I  could  tell 

What  are  your  shield,  your  arms,  your  motto  ?  '  Well, 

Brown  winced,  grew  red,  looked  puzzled  for  a  while, 

Then  answered  gayly  with  a  pleasant  smile, 

'  My  shield  is  or,  sir,  and  the  arms  I  bear. 

Three  mushrooms  rampant.' — Motto,  '  Here  we  are.'" 

There  are  many  similar  good  things  in  the  book, 
so  I  venture  to  point  it  out  to  the  enterprising  publish- 
ers of  America  as  something  worthy  of — ''conveying." 

There  is  much  discussion  this  morning  as  to  the  best 
route  to  take,  there  is  so  much  to  tempt  us  on  either  of 
several  ways.  Shall  we  go  by  Compton  Verney  (there 
is  a  pretty  English  name  for  you),  Wellesbourn,  and 
Hastings?  or  shall  we  take  our  way  through  Broughton 
Castle,  Tadmarton,  Scoalcliffe,  Compton  Wynyate,  and 
Oxhill?  In  one  way  Wroxton  Abbey,  one  of  the  real 
genuine  baronial  abbeys,  if  one  may  say  so,  and  Edge- 
hill.  Surely  no  good  Republican  would  miss  that ! 
But  on  the  other  route  we  shall  see  the  stronghold  of 
Lord  Saye  and  Sele,  older  yet  than  Wroxton,  and 
Compton  Wynyate,  older  and  finer  than  all — "  a  noble 
wreck  in  ruinous  perfection,"  and  a  third  route  still 
finer  than  either  as  far  as  scenery  is  concerned.  Such 
is  this  treasure  house,  this  crowded  grand  old  England, 
whose  every  mile  boasts  such  attractions  to  win  our 
love. 


Wrox  toil  Abbey.  117 

"  Look  where  we  may,  we  cannot  err 
In  this  cleHcious  region — change  of  place 
Producing  change  of  beauty — ever  new." 

Every  day's  journey  only  proves  to  us  how  little  of 
all  there  is  to  see  we  can  see ;  how  much  we  miss  on  the 
right  and  on  the  left.  One  might  coach  upon  this  Island 
every  summer  during  his  whole  life  and  yet  die  leaving 
more  of  beauty  and  of  interest  to  visit  than  all  that  he 
had  been  able  to  see.  When  one  does  not  know  how  to 
spend  a  summer's  holiday  let  him  try  this  coaching  life 
and  thank  heaven  for  a  new  world  opened  to  him. 

We  chose  the  first  route,  and  whatever  the  others 
might  have  proved  we  are  satisfied,  for  it  is  unanimously 
decided  that  in  Wroxton  Abbey  we  have  seen  our  most 
interesting  structure.  Though  it  dates  only  from  the 
beginning  of  the  seventeenth  century,  it  is  a  grand  build- 
ing and  a  fine  example  of  the  domestic  architecture  of 
the  period.  Its  west  front  is  a  hundred  and  eighteen 
feet  long,  and  its  porch  is  an  elegant  specimen  of  the 
Italian  decorated  entrances  of  the  time.  Blenheim  and 
Windsor  are  larger,  but  had  we  our  choice  we  would 
take  Wroxton  in  preference  to  either.  With  what  in- 
terest did  we  wander  through  its  quaint  irregular  cham- 
bers and  inspect  its  treasures !  James  I.  slept  in  this 
bed,  Charles  I.  in  that,  and  George  IV.  in  another ;  this 
quilt  is  the  work  of  Mary  Queen  of  Scots — there  is  her 
name  ;  Queen  Elizabeth  occupied  this  chamber  during  a 
visit,  and  King  WilHam  this.     Then  the  genuine  old 


1 1 8  Four-in-Hand  in  Britain. 

pictures,  although  in  this  department  Blenheim  stands 
unrivalled.  Marlborough  knew  the  adage  that  "  to  the 
victor  belongs  the  spoils,"  and  acted  upon  it  too,  for  he 
had  rare  opportunities  abroad  to  gather  treasures.  But 
for  a  realization  of  your  most  picturesque  ideal  of  a  great 
old  English  house,  betake  yourselves  to  Wroxton  Abbey. 
Its  little  chapel,  rich  in  very  old  oak  carving,  is  in  itself 
worth  a  journey  to  see. 

A  pretty  story  is  told  of  the  visit  of  James  I.  to  the 
Abbey.  The  wife  of  Sir  William  Pope,  the  owner,  had 
lately  presented  him  with  a  daughter,  and  on  the  King's 
arrival  the  babe  was  brought  to  him  bearing  in  her  little 
hand  a  scroll  containing  the  following  verses : 

"  See  this  little  mistres  here, 
Did  never  sit  in  Peter's  chaire, 
Or  a  triple  crowne  did  weare ; 
And  yet  she  is  a  Pope. 

"  No  benefice  she  ever  sold, 
Nor  did  dispence  with  sins  for  gold ; 
She  hardly  is  a  sev'nnight  old. 
And  yet  she  is  a  Pope. 

"  No  King  her  feet  did  ever  kisse. 

Or  had  from  her  worse  look  than  this : 

Nor  did  she  ever  hope 

To  saint  one  with  a  rope  ; 

And  yet  she  is  a  Pope. 
A  female  Pope,  you'll  say,  a  second  Joan ; 
No  sure — she  is  Pope  Innocent  or  none." 


EdgehilL  119 

We  lunched  off  deal  tables  and  drank  home-brewed 
ale  in  the  tap-room  of  the  Holcroft  Inn,  a  queer  old 
place,  but  we  had  a  jolly  time  amid  every  kind  of  thing 
that  carried  us  back  to  the  England  of  past  centuries. 
Beyond  Holcroft  we  came  suddenly  upon  the  grandest 
and  most  extensive  view  by  far  that  had  yet  rejoiced  us. 
We  were  rolling  along  absorbed  in  deep  admiration  of 
the  fertile  land  that  spread  out  before  us  on  both  sides 
of  the  road,  and  extolling  the  never-ceasing  peacefulness 
and  quiet  charm  of  England,  when,  on  passing  through 
a  cut,  a  wide  and  varied  panorama  lay  stretched  at  our 
feet.  A  dozen  picturesque  villages  and  hamlets  were  in 
sight,  and  by  the  aid  of  our  field-glass  a  dozen  more 
were  brought  within  range.  The  spires  of  the  churches, 
the  poplars,  the  hedgerows,  the  woods,  the  gently  undu- 
lating land  apparently  giving  forth  its  luxuriant  harvest 
with  such  ease  and  pleasure,  all  these  made  up  such  a 
picture  as  we  could  not  leave.  We  ordered  the  coach  to 
go  on  and  wait  at  the  foot  of  the  hill  until  we  had  feasted 
ourselves  with  the  view.  We  lay  upon  the  face  of  the 
hill  and  gazed  on  Arcadia  smiling  below.  Very  soon 
some  of  the  neighboring  residents  came,  for  one  is  never 
long  without  human  company  in  crowded  England  ;  and 
we  found  that  we  were  indeed  upon  sacred  ground. 
This  was  Edgehill !  As  sturdy  republicans  we  lingered 
long  upon  the  spot,  gazing  on  the  scene  of  that  bloody 
fight  between  king  and  people  which,  however,  was 
almost  without  immediate   result — for  it  was  a  drawn 


I20  Four-in-Hand  in  Britain. 

battle — but  which  eventually  led  to  so  much.  Charles's 
army  lay  at  Banbury,  whence  we  had  just  come,  that  of 
the  Parliament  at  Kineton  yonder,  and  spread  out  before 
us  was  the  plain  where  they  met.  The  ground  is  now 
occupied  by  two  farms  called  the  Battle  Farms,  distin- 
guished as  Battleton  and  Thistlcton.  Between  the  farm- 
houses, on  the  latter  place,  are  the  places  where  the 
slain  were  buried,  appropriately  called  the  Grave  Fields. 
A  copse  of  fir  trees  in  one  place  is  said  to  mark  the  site 
of  a  pit  into  which  five  hundred  were  thrown. 

Some  of  the  royalist  writers  have  tried  to  prove  that 
Cromwell  was  not  present  at  Edgehill,  and  one  has  even 
countenanced  an  idle  tale  that  he  witnessed  the  battle 
from  a  steeple  on  one  of  the  neighboring  hills,  and  that 
he  incontinently  took  to  his  heels,  or  rather  to  his  horses' 
legs,  when  he  thought  the  meeting  had  resulted  disas- 
trously to  the  forces  of  the  Parliament.  But  Carlyle 
characterizes  this  story  as  it  deserves,  for  Lord  Nugent 
expressly  mentions  Cromwell's  troop  of  dragoons  as 
among  those  that  charged  at  the  close  of  the  battle. 
No,  no,  stern  old  Oliver  was  not  the  man  to  stand  aloof 
when  he  once  had  scent  of  a  battle  ;  and  we  may  be  sure, 
although  he  was  then  but  a  captain  of  horse,  that  he  did 
good  service  at  Edgehill. 

There  were  good  men  on  both  sides  that  day,  and  not 
the  least  among  them  was  brave  Sir  Jacob  Astley,  who 
commanded  Charles's  foot.  He  was  withal  a  man  of 
piety,  for  the  Parliamentarians  did  not  have  a  monopoly 


Warwick    Castle.  121 

in  that  line,  however  much  their  chroniclers  may  claim 
it ;  and  I  have  always  regarded  his  prayer  on  that  mo- 
mentous Sunday  morning  as  a  model  which  many  clergy- 
men might  study  with  profit  to  themselves  and  to  their 
congregations.  **  O  Lord  !  "  said  he,  as  he  settled  himself 
firmly  in  the  saddle,  "  Thou  knowest  how  busy  I  must 
be  this  day.  If  I  forget  Thee,  do  not  Thou  forget  me. 
March  on,  boys  !  "     Is  not  that  to  the  purpose  ? 

Let  such  as  are  at  their  appointed  work  have  no  fear 
that  they  will  ever  be  forgotten — the  performance  of  a 
duty  ranks  before  the  offering  of  a  prayer,  any  day — nay, 
is  of  itself  the  best  prayer.  There's  plenty  of  time  for 
lip  service  when  we  have  served  the  Lord  by  hard  work  in 
a  good  cause.  When  people  have  nothing  better  to  do 
let  them  pray,  but  don't  let  them  be  too  greedy  and  ask 
much  for  themselves. 

Our  route  lay  through  Warwick  and  Leamington. 
The  view  of  the  castle  from  the  bridge  is,  I  believe,  the 
best  of  its  kind  in  England.  "  From  turret  to  founda- 
tion stone  "  it  is  all  perfect.  The  very  entrance  tells  of 
the  good  old  days.  As  we  pass  beneath  the  archway, 
over  the  drawbridge,  and  under  the  portcullis,  it  all 
comes  back  to  us. 

"  Up  drawbridge,  grooms.     What,  Warder,  ho  ! 
Let  the  portcullis  fall  ! 
To  pass  there  was  such  scanty  room 
The  bars  descending  razed  his  plume." 

Warwick,  the  king-maker !    This  was  his  castle.     His 


122  Four-in-Hand  in  Britain. 

quarrel  with  the  king  was  one  of  our  most  taking  recita- 
tions.     The  Scribe  was  considered  heavy  in  this : 

"  Know  this,  the  man  who  injured  Warwick 
Never  passed  uninjured  yet." 

He  found  that  out,  did  he  not,  my  lord  of  the  ragged 
staff! 

The  view  from  the  great  hall  looking  on  the  river 
below  is  fixed  in  my  mind.  Don't  miss  it ;  and  surely 
he  who  will  climb  to  the  top  of  Guy's  Tower  will  have 
cause  for  thankfulness  for  many  a  year  thereafter.  You 
get  a  look  at  more  of  England  there  than  is  generally 
possible.  I  sympathize  with  Ruskin  in  his  rage  at  the 
attempt  to  raise  funds  by  subscription  to  mend  the  rav- 
ages of  a  recent  fire  in  the  castle.  A  Warwick  in  the 
role  of  a  Belisarius  begging  for  an  obolus !  If  the  king- 
maker could  look  upon  this  !  But  historical  names  are 
now  often  trailed  in  the  dust  in  England ;  and  it  must 
be  some  consolation  to  him,  wherever  he  may  be,  to 
know  that  the  bearer  of  the  title,  if  responsible  for  this, 
is  no  scion  of  the  old  stock. 

The  legend  of  Guy  of  Warwick,  accepted  as  an  his- 
torical fact  by  the  early  writers,  has  been  relegated  to 
the  garret  of  monkish  superstition,  with  the  ribs  of  the 
dun  cow  and  other  once  undoubted  relics ;  but  its  ro- 
mance will  always  lend  an  interest  to  the  old  castle  and 
attract  the  traveller  to  the  site  of  the  hermitage  on  Guy's 
Cliff  where  the  fabled  hero  died  and  was  buried.     You 


Guy  of  Warwick.  123 

must  not  suppose  that  Guy's  Tower  had  any  connection 
with  the  original  Guy,  for  the  building  dates  only  from 
the  close  of  the  fourteenth  century,  while  the  latter 
boasts  an  antiquity  of  nearly  a  thousand  years.  Indeed, 
we  can  place  him  to  a  dot,  for  the  antiquary  Rous  is  very 
precise  in  his  statement.  He  says  :  "  On  the  twelfth  of 
June,  926,  being  the  third  year  of  the  reign  of  Athelstan, 
a  most  terrible  single  combat  took  place  between  the 
champions  of  the  kings  of  England  and  Denmark — Guy, 
Earl  of  Warwick,  and  Colebrand  the  Pagan,  an  African 
giant ;  through  the  mercy  of  God  the  Christian  under- 
took the  combat,  being  advised  thereto  by  an  angel ;  and 
the  faithful  servant  of  God  and  the  Church  fortunately 
vanquished  the  enemy  of  the  whole  realm  of  England." 
^Isit  not  dreadful  to  contemplate  what  might  have 
been  the  consequences  if  Colebrand  the  African  had  got 
the  upper  hand  of  that  faithful  servant  of  God  and  the 
Church  !  But  it  was  not  to  be.  The  Pagan  had  a  lost 
fight  from  the  start,  for,  though  the  chronicle  does  not 
expressly  say  so,  it  is  very  evident  to  the  reflecting  mind 
that  Guy  was  backed  throughout  by  the  angel — a  mean 
advantage  which,  but  for  the  immensity  of  the  stake, 
would  have  led  any  ordinary  lover  of  fair  play  to  side 
with  the  weaker  party.  But  not  so  with  the  wily  monks 
of  those  days.  In  their  easy  consciences  the  end  justified 
the  means,  and  so  they  glorified  Guy  as  the  champion 
of  all  that  was  good,  and  so  sedulously  trumpeted  his 
fame  that  the  Norman  barons  who  succeeded  to  the 


124  Four-in-Hand  in  Britain, 

ownership  of  the  old  Saxon  stronghold  saw  their  interest 
in  adopting  the  victor  as  an  ancestor.  In  time  these 
Normans  came  to  believe  implicitly  in  the  family  tree 
with  Guy  at  the  root,  just  as  some  silly  people  pin  their 
faith  to  the  parchment  evidences  of  the  professional 
genealogists  proving  their  descent  from  some  fabulous 
hero  who  followed  William  and  his  crew  from  Normandy. 
They  named  their  sons  after  Guy,  called  the  tower  his 
tower,  and  hung  up  his  arms  ahd  armor  in  the  great 
hall,  while  their  wives  and  daughters  worked  his  exploits 
in  tapestry. 

These  proud  descendants  of  a  fabulous  ancestor  re- 
mind one  of  the  general  in  the  "  Pirates  of  Penzance  "  who 
is  found  weeping  at  the  tomb  in  the  abbey  belonging  to 
the  property  he  has  purchased.  When  it  is  suggested 
to  him  that  his  tears  are  misplaced,  he  replies :  "  Sir, 
when  I  bought  this  property  I  bought  this  abbey  and 
this  tomb  with  its  contents.  I  do  not  know  whose  an- 
cestors these  were,  but  I  do  know  whose  ancestors  they 
arcT  And  he  falls  to  sobbing  again,  bound  to  have  an 
ancestry  of  some  kind,  the  more  important  the  more  to 
belittle  himself  by  comparison.  But  the  general  is  very 
English  for  all  that.     Tennyson's  lines, 

"  Trust  me,  Clara  Vere  de  Vere, 
From  yon  blue  heavens  above  us  bent 
The  grand  old  gardener  and  his  wife 
Smile  at  the  claims  of  long  descent," 

are  well  known  and  repeated  by  the  school  children  all 


Keftilwortk    Castle.  125 

over  the  land,  but  the  grown  men  and  women,  entirely 
free  from  the  weakness  of  trying  to  figure  out  a  family 
tree  of  respectable  antiquity,  will  be  found  unexpectedly 
small  in  this  old  land.  Josh  Billings  settled  the  matter 
as  far  as  Americans  are  concerned,  for  the  malady  is  even 
more  ridiculous  in  the  New  World.  "  We  can't  boast 
old  family  here,"  says  he,  "  the  country  ain't  /i?//^  enough, 
unless  a  feller  has  Injun  in  him."  That  is  what  the  law- 
yers call  an  estoppel,  I  take  it. 

Driving  through  Leamington  we  reached  Kenilworth 
Castle  for  luncheon,  to  which  we  had  looked  forward  for 
several  days.  Alas  !  the  keeper  informed  us  that  no  pic- 
nic parties  are  admitted  since  the  grounds  have  been  put 
into  such  excellent  order  by  the  kind  Earl  Clarendon 
(for  which  thanks,  good  earl).  But  he  was  a  man  of 
some  discrimination,  this  custodian  of  the  ruins,  and 
when  he  saw  our  four-in-hand  and  learned  who  we  were 
— Americans !  Brighton  to  Inverness ! — he  made  us  an 
exception  to  the  rule,  of  which  I  trust  his  lordship  will 
approve,  if  he  ever  hears.  We  had  one  of  our  happiest 
luncheons  beneath  the  walls  under  a  large  hawthorn  tree, 
which  we  decided  was  the  very  place  where  the  enraged 
Queen  Bess  discovered  dear  Amy  Robsart  on  that  mem- 
orable night. 

A  thousand  memories  cluster  round  this  ruin  ;  but 
what  should  we  have  known  of  it  had  not  the  great 
magician  touched  with  his  wand  this  dead  mass  of  stone 
and  lime  and  conferred  immortality  upon  the  actors  and 


126  Four-in-Hand  iJi  Britain. 

their  revels?  In  his  pages  we  live  over  again  the  days 
of  old,  and  take  part  with  the  Virgin  Queen  and  her 
train  of  lords  and  ladies  in  the  grand  reception  so  lav- 
ishly prepared  for  her  amusement  by  the  then  reigning 
favorite ;  ruined  walls  and  towers  and  courts  assume 
their  ancient  proportions  and  resound  with  music  and 
revelry,  and  the  noble  park,  now  so  quiet,  is  alive  once 
more  with  huntsmen  and  gayly  clad  courtiers.  But 
vivid  as  is  Scott's  picture,  it  is  exceeded  in  quaint  inter- 
est by  the  original  account  of  the  festivities  from  which 
the  great  romancer  drew  his  facts,  but  which  is  as  little 
known  to  the  ordinary  reader  of  "  Kenilworth  "  as  is 
the  prototype  of  Hamlet  to  the  common  play-goer. 
Master  Robert  Laneham,  the  writer,  was  a  sort  of 
hanger-on  of  the  court,  and  appears  to  have  accompa- 
nied Leicester  to  Kenilworth.  His  account  is  in  the 
form  of  a  letter  addressed  to  "  my  good  friend.  Master 
Humfrey  Martin,  Mercer,"  in  London,  and  is  written, 
says  Scott,  "  in  a  style  of  the  most  intolerable  affecta- 
tion, both  in  point  of  composition  and  orthography." 

After  a  brief  account  of  the  preliminary  journey  of 
the  queen,  this  veracious  chronicler  informs  us  that  she 
was  "  met  in  the  Park,  about  a  flight  shoot  from  the 
Brayz  and  first  gate  of  the  castl"  by  a  person  repre- 
senting "  one  of  the  ten  Sibills,  comely  clad  in  a  Pall  of 
white  Sylk,  who  pronounced  a  proper  Poezi  in  English 
Rime  and  meeter."  .  .  .  "  This  her  majestie  benignly 
accepting,  passed  foorth  untoo  the  next   gate   of  the 


A   Giant's  Portrait.  127 

Brayz,  which,  for  the  length,  largenes,  and  use  they  call 
now  the  Tylt-yard  ;  whear  a  Porter,  tall  of  Person,  big 
of  lim  and  stearn  of  countinance,  wrapt  also  all  in  Sylke, 
with  a  club  and  keiz  of  quantitee  according,  had  a  rough 
speech  full  of  Passions,  in  meeter  aptly  made  to  the 
purpose." 

Be  it  here  recorded  that  the  Charioteers  had  the  pleas- 
ure while  in  London  of  lookingupon  the  portrait  of  this 
giant  porter,  which  hangs  in  the  King's  Guard  Chamber 
at  Hampton  Court  Palace.  It  is  supposed  to  have  been 
painted  by  the  Italian  artist  Ferdinando  Zucchero,  who, 
it  will  be  remembered,  visited  England.  The  fellow  is 
truly  called  ''  big  of  lim,"  for  the  canvas  is  more  than 
nine  feet  high  and  the  figure,  which  is  said  to  be  of  life 
size,  measures  eight  and  a  half  feet.  His  hand  is  seven- 
teen inches  long.  He  stands  with  his  left  hand  on  his 
hip  and  his  right  on  a  long  rapier ;  is  dressed  in  large 
balloon  breeches,  with  black  stockings,  and  a  white 
quilted  vest  with  a  black  waistcoat  over  it ;  and  wears 
a  cap  with  a  feather  in  it  and  a  small  ruff.  The  picture 
was  painted  after  the  queen's  visit  to  Kenilworth,  for 
the  date  1580  is  plainly  to  be  seen  in  one  of  the  upper 
corners. 

When  the  great  porter  had  concluded,  "  six  Trum- 
petoours,  every  one  an  eight  foot  hye  in  due  proportion 
of  Parson  beside,  all  in  long  garments  of  Sylk  suitabl," 
who  stood  upon  the  wall  over  the  gate,  sounded  a  "  tune 
of  welcum."  These  "  armonious  blasterz  mainteined  their 


128  Four-in-Hand  in  Britain. 

music  very  delectably,"  while  the  queen  rode  into  the 
inner  gate,  "  where  the  Ladye  of  the  Lake  (famous  in 
King  Arthurz  Book)  with  two  Nymphes  waiting  uppon 
her,  arrayed  all  in  Sylks,  attended  her  highness'  coming. 
From  the  midst  of  the  Pool,  whear  uppon  a  moovable 
Hand  bright  blazing  with  Torches,  she  floating  to  land, 
met  her  majestie  with  a  well-penned  meeter,"  expressive 
of  the  "  Anncientie  of  the  castl  "  and  the  hereditary 
dignity  of  its  owners. 

"  This  Pageant  was  cloz'd  up  with  a  delectabl  har- 
mony of  Hautboiz,  Shalmz,  Cornets,  and  such  oother 
loord  Muzik,"  that  held  on  while  her  majesty  crossed  a 
bridge  over  a  dry  valley  in  front  of  the  castle  gate,  the 
different  posts  of  which  were  decorated  with  fruits,  flow- 
ers, birds,  and  other  decorations  emblematic  of  the  gifts 
of  Sylvanus,  Pomona,  Ceres,  Neptune,  and  other  divini- 
ties. Having  passed  this,  the  main  gate  of  the  castle 
was  reached.  Over  it,  on  a  "  Tabl  beautifully  garnisht 
aboove  with  her  Highness'  Arms"  was  inscribed  a  Latin 
poem  descriptive  of  the  various  tributes  paid  to  her 
arrival  by  the  gods  and  goddesses.  The  verses  were 
read  to  her  by  a  poet  "  in  a  long  ceruleoous  garment, 
with  a  side  and  wide  sleevz  Venecian  wize  drawen  up  to 
his  elboz,  his  dooblet  sleevz  under  that  Crimson,  noth- 
ing but  Sylk :  a  Bay  garland  on  his  head,  and  a  skro  in 
his  hand."  .  .  .  "So  passing  into  the  inner  Coourt, 
her  majesty  (that  never  rides  but  alone),  thear  sat 
down  from  her  palfrey,  was  conveied  up  to  Chamber : 


Bearbaitiitg.  129 

When,  after  did  folio  so  great  peal  of  gunz,  and  such 
lightning  by  fyrwork  a  long  space  toagither,  as  Jupiter 
woold  slieaw  himself  too  be  no  furthur  behind  with  his 
welcoom  than  the  rest  of  his  gods." 

The  chronicler  then  gives  an  account  of  the  festivi- 
ties, which  lasted  seventeen  days  and  comprised  nearly 
every  amusement  known  to  the  period.  On  Sunday, 
after  "  divine  servis  and  preaching,"  the  afternoon  was 
spent  in  "  excellent  muzik  of  sundry  swet  Instruments 
and  in  dauncing  of  Lordes  and  Ladiez,  and  other  woor- 
shipfull  degreez,  uttered  with  such  lively  agilitee  and 
commendable  grace  az  whither  it  moought  be  more 
straunge  too  the  eye,  or  pleazunt  too  the  minde,  for 
my  part  indeed  I  coold  not  discern." 

One  morning  was  devoted  to  a  bearbaiting,  in  which 
thirteen  bears  and  bandogs  took  part,  "  with  such  fend- 
ing and  prooving,  with  plucking  and  tugging,  skratting 
and  byting,  by  plain  tooth  and  nayll  a  to  side  and 
toother,  such  expens  of  blood  and  leather  waz  thear 
between  them,  as  a  moonths  licking  I  ween  will  not 
recoover." 

Refined  amusement,  you  say,  for  the  Queen  of  Eng- 
land and  her  court  only  three  hundred  years  ago.  But 
not  so  fast,  my  dear  lady ;  think  what  three  hundred 
years  hence  will  say  of  you  and  your  amusements.  Did 
you  not  give  us  a  lively  description  the  other  evening 
of  your  riding  after  the  hounds  ?  Lady  Gay  Spanker 
herself,  I  thought,  could  not  have  done  it  better,  and  I 
9 


130  Four-in-Hand  in  Britain. 

am  sure  she  was  not  more  fascinating  than  you.  But 
long  before  one  hundred  years  shall  pass,  my  friend,  ladies 
in  your  station  will  be  equally  amazed  that  you  could  so 
torture  a  poor  hare  or  fox  and  feel  it  to  be  not  only 
not  unworthy  of  a  lady  but  a  source  of  enjoyment  to 
you.  I  say  your  grandchild  will  blush  for  her  grandma 
as  she  shows  ,to  her  children  the  picture  of  your  lovely 
face.  What  Queen  Elizabeth  is  now  in  your  eyes,  what 
Roman  emperors  in  the  bloody  Coliseum  were  in  hers, 
you  will  be  in  the  eyes  of  the  third  generation  after 
you.     Think  of  this.     Remember  what  Cowper  says  : 

"  I  would  not  rank  among  my  list  of  friends, 
Though  graced  with  polished  manners  and  fine  sense, 
That  man  who  needlessly  sets  foot  upon  a  worm." 

Men  will  give  up  such  sports  after  a  time  ;  but  surely 
we  may  expect  women  to  find  even  in  this  day  not  only 
no  pleasure  but  even  positive  pain  in  such  sports  and 
leave  them  to  coarser  natures. 

Another  day  was  marked  by  the  exhibition  of  an 
Italian  tumbler,  who  displayed  "  such  feats  of  agilitee, 
in  goinges,  turninges,  tumblinges,  castings,  hops,  jumps, 
leaps,  skips,  springs,  gambaud,  soomersauts,  caprettiez, 
and  flights  ;  forward,  backward,  sydewize,  a  doownward, 
upward,  and  with  sundry  windings,  gyrings  and  circum- 
flexions ;  allso  lightly  and  with  such  eaziness,  as  by  me 
in  feaw  words  it  is  not  expressibl  by  pen  or  speech  I 
tell  yoo  plain."  On  the  second  Sunday,  after  a  "  frute- 
full  Sermon,"  a  "  solemn  Brydeale  of   a  proper  Coopl 


Sunday  Amusements.  131 

was  appointed  In  the  tylt-yard,"  attended  by  all  the 
country  folk  in  holiday  costume.  This  was  followed  by 
Morris  dances,  a  Coventry  play,  and  other  games.  "  By 
my  troth,  Master  Martyn,  'twaz  a  lively  pastime  ;  I  be- 
leeve  it  woold  have  mooved  sum  man  to  a  right  meerry 
mood,  though  had  it  be  toold  him  hiz  wife  lay  a  dying." 
And  all  this  on  the  Holy  Sawbath — for  shame,  Queen 
Bess! 

Nearly  every  hour  had  its  appointed  sport,  one  amuse- 
ment following  another  in  endless  variety,  and  the  park 
was  peopled  with  mimic  gods  and  goddesses  who  surprised 
the  queen  with  complimentary  dialogues  and  addresses 
at  every  turn.  Dancing  and  feasting  were  kept  up  all 
day  long  and  far  into  the  night,  for  no  note  was  taken 
of  time.  "  The  clok  bell  sang  not  a  note  all  the  while 
her  highness  waz  thear ;  the  clok  also  stood  still  withall ; 
the  handz  of  both  the  tablz  stood  firm  and  fast,  allwayz 
poynting  at  two  a  clok,"  the  hour  of  banquet. 

The  day  of  our  visit  to  Kenilworth  was  very  warm, 
even  for  Americans,  and  after  luncheon  we  became  a 
lazy,  sleepy  party.  I  have  a  distinct  recollection  of  an 
upward  and  then  a  downward  movement  which  awoke 
me  suddenly.  One  after  another  of  the  party,  caught 
asleep  on  a  rug,  was  treated  to  a  tossing  amid  screams 
of  laughter.  We  were  all  very  drowsy,  but  a  fresh 
breeze  arose  as  the  sun  declined,  and  remounting  the 
coach  late  in  the  afternoon  we  had  a  charming  drive  to 
Stratford-on-Avon. 


132  Four-in-Hand  in  B^'itain. 

Stratford-on-Avon,  June  23. 
Our  resting-place  was  the  Red  Horse  Inn,  of  which 
Washington  Irving  has  written  so  dehghtfully.  One 
can  hardly  say  that  he  comes  into  Shakespeare's  coun- 
try, for  one  is  always  there,  so  deeply  and  widely  has 
his  influence  reached.  We  live  in  his  land  always ;  but, 
as  we  approached  the  quiet  little  village  where  he  ap- 
peared on  earth,  we  could  not  help  speculating  upon  the 
causes  which  produced  the  prodigy.  One  almost  expects 
nature  herself  to  present  a  different  aspect  to  enable  us 
to  account  in  some  measure  for  the  apparition  of  a  being 
so  far  beyond  all  others  ;  but  it  is  not  so — we  see  only 
the  quiet  beauty  which  characterizes  almost  every  part 
of  England.  His  sweet  sonnets  seem  the  natural  out- 
birth  of  the  land.  Where  met  he  the  genius  of  tragedy, 
think  you  ?  Surely  not  on  the  cultivated  banks  of  the 
gentle  Avon,  where  all  is  so  tame.  But  as  Shakespeare 
resembled  other  burghers  of  Stratford  so  much,  not 
showing  upon  the  surface  that  he  was  that 

"  largest  son  of  time 
Who  wandering  sang  to  a  listening  world," 

our  search  for  external  conditions  as  to  his  environment 
need  not  be  continued.  Ordinary  laws  are  inapplica- 
ble— he  was  a  law  unto  himself.  How  or  why  Shake- 
speare was  Shakespeare  will  be  settled  when  there  shall 
be  few  problems  of  the  race  left  to  settle.  It  is  well 
that  he  lies  on  the  banks  of  the  Avon,  for  that  requires 


Shakespeare  s   Tomb.  133 

us  to  make  a  special  visit  to  his  shrine  to  worship  him. 
His  mighty  shade  alone  fills  the  mind.  True  mono- 
theists  are  we  all  who  make  the  pilgrimage  to  Stratford. 
I  have  been  there  often,  but  I  am  always  awed  into 
silence  as  I  approach  the  church  ;  and  when  I  stand 
beside  the  ashes  of  Shikespeare  I  cannot  repress  stern, 
gloomy  thoughts,  and  e  sk  why  so  potent  a  force  is  now 
but  a  little  dust.  The  inexplicable  waste  of  nature,  a  mill- 
ion born  that  one  may  live,  seems  nothing  compared 
to  this — the  brain  of  a  god  doing  its  work  one  day  and 
food  for  worms  the  next  !  No  wonder,  George  Eliot, 
that  this  was  ever  the  weight  that  lay  upon  your  heart 
and  troubled  you  so  ! 

A  cheery  voice  behind  me.  "What  is  the  matter? 
Are  you  ill  ?  You  look  as  if  you  hadn't  a  friend  in  the 
world !  "  Thanks,  gentle  remembrancer.  This  is  no 
time  for  the  Scribe  to  forget  himself.  We  are  not  out 
for  lessons  or  for  moralizing.  Things  are  and  shall  be 
"  altogether  lovely."  One  must  often  laugh  if  one 
would  not  cry. 

Here  is  a  funny  conceit.  A  worthy  draper  in  the 
town  has  recently  put  an  upright  stone  at  the  head  of 
his  wife's  grave,  with  an  inscription  setting  forth  the 
dates  of  her  birth  and  death,  and  beneath  it  the  follow- 
ing verse  : 

"  For  the  Lord  has  done  great  things  for  us,  whereof 
we  are  exceeding  glad." 

The  wretch  !    One  of  the  wives  of  our  party  declared 


134  Four-zn-Hand  in  Britain. 

that  she  could  not  like  a  man  who  could  think  at  such  a 
crisis  of  such  a  verse,  no  matter  how  he  meant  it.  She 
was  confident  that  he  was  one  of  those  terribly  resigned 
kind  of  men  who  will  find  that  the  Lord  has  done  great 
things  for  him  in  the  shape  of  a  second  helpmeet  within 
two  years. 

This  led  to  a  search  for  other  inscriptions.  Here  is 
one  which  struck  our  fancy  : 

"  Under  these  ashes  lies  one  close  confined, 
Who  was  to  all  both  affable  and  kind  ; 
A  neighbor  good,  extensive  to  ye  poor. 
Her  soul  we  hope's  at  rest  forevermore." 

This  was  discussed  and  considered  to  go  rather  too 
far.  Good  Swedenborgians  still  dispute  about  the 
body's  rising  again,  and  make  a  great  point  of  that,  as 
showing  their  superior  wisdom,  as  if  it  mattered  whether 
we  rise  with  this  body  or  another,  any  more  than 
whether  we  wear  one  suit  of  clothes  or  another;  the 
great  matter  being  that  we  rise  at  all.  But  this  good 
friend  seems  to  bespeak  rest  forever  for  the  soul.  One 
of  us  spoke  of  having  lately  seen  a  very  remarkable  col- 
lection of  passages  from  Scripture  which  seemed  to 
permit  the  hope  that  all  for  whom  a  kind  father  has 
nothing  better  in  store  than  perpetual  torture  will  kindly 
be  permitted  to  rest.  One  of  the  passages  in  question 
was:  "  For  the  wicked  ^2X\ perish  everlastingly."  The 
question  was  remitted  to  the  theologians  of  our  party, 


Evc7'lastmg  Punishment.  135 

with  instructions  to  give  it  prayerful  consideration  and 
report. 

If  there  be  Scriptural  warrant  for  the  belief,  I  wish  to 
embrace  it  at  once.  Meanwhile  I  am  not  going  to  be 
sure  that  any  poor  miserable  sinner  is  to  be  disturbed 
when  after  "  life's  fitful  fever  he  sleeps  well  "  on  the  ten- 
der, forgiving  bosom  of  mother  earth,  unless  he  can  be 
finally  fitted  for  as  good  or  a  better  life  than  this. 
Therefore,  good  Emma  and  Ella  and  the  rest  who  are 
staunch  dogmatists,  be  very  careful  how  you  report,  for 
it  is  a  fearful  thing  to  charge  our  Creator  unjustly  with 
decreeing  everlasting  torture  even  to  the  worst  offender 
into  whom  He  has  breathed  the  breath  of  life.  Refrain, 
if  possible, 

"Under  this  conjuration  speak  ; 
For  we  will  hear,  note,  and  believe  in  heart 
That  what  you  speak  is  in  your  conscience  washed 
As  pure  as  sin  with  baptism." 

I  have  not  yet  been  favored  with  the  report  asked 
for,  and  therefore  the  question  rests. 

The  Charioteers  got  upon  delicate  ground  occasion- 
ally, as  was  to  be  expected,  and  although  in  all  well 
regulated  families  two  subjects — politics  and  religion — 
are  proscribed,  we  came  near  running  foul  of  the  latter 
to-day.  There  were  wide  differences  of  opinion  among 
us,  of  course,  from  the  true  blue  Presbyterian,  strong  for 
all  the  tenets  of  Calvin,  down  to  the  milder  Episcopa- 
lian who  took  more  hopeful  views  and  asked  : 


136  Four-in-Hand  in  Britain, 

"  Shall  there  not  be  as  good  a  '  Then  '  as  '  Now '  ? 
Haply  much  better  !  since  one  grain  of  rice 
Shoots  a  green  feather  gemmed  with  fifty  pearls, 
And  all  the  starry  champak's  white  and  gold 
Lurks  in  those  little,  naked,  gray  spring-buds." 

I  related  an  incident  which  happened  in  Rome.  As 
I  entered  the  general  drawing  room  one  evening,  an  ex- 
citing discussion  was  going  fonvard  on  the  very  subject 
which  we  were  then  considering,  A  lady  of  rank  was 
giving  expression  to  very  advanced  ideas  which  others 
were  combatting.  An  old  gentleman  at  last  said : 
"  Ladies  and  gentlemen,  all  this  reminds  me  of  a  discus- 
sion we  young  men  were  having  once  in  my  good  old 
father's  hall,  when  my  father  happened  to  enter.  After 
hstening  to  us  a  few  minutes  he  said  :  *  Young  men, 
you  may  as  well  cease  your  arguing.  I'll  tell  you  all 
about  it.     In  this  life 

"  Our  ingress  is  naked  and  bare. 
Our  progress  is  trouble  and  care, 
Our  egress  is — no  one  knows  where. 

If  you  do  well  here,  you'll  do  well  there, — 

I  could  tell  you  no  more  if  I  preached  for  a  year." 

The  effect  was  instantaneous.  Unanimous  adhesion 
was  given  to  the  old  gentleman's  conclusion,  and  the 
party  bid  each  other  a  cordial  good  night  and  went 
reconciled  to  bed.  I  am  happy  to  record  that  such  was 
also  the  effect  upon  the  Charioteers. 

It  will  be  taken  for  granted  that  while  the  Charioteers 


Shakespeare  Stories.  137 

were  in  this  hallowed  region  many  stories  were  told  about 
Shakespeare.  Two  of  the  gentlemen  of  our  party,  at 
least,  dated  our  love  of  letters  to  the  circumstance  that 
we  were  messenger  boys  in  the  Pittsburgh  telegraph 
office  ;  and  when  we  carried  telegrams  to  the  managers 
of  the  theatre,  good  kind  Mr.  Porter  (followed  by  one 
equally  kind  to  us,  Mr.  Foster)  permitted  us  after  deliv- 
ering th  ^m  to  pass  up  to  the  gallery  among  the  gods, 
where  we  heard  now  and  then  one  of  the  immortal  plays. 
Having  heard  the  melodious  flow  of  words,  which  of 
themselves  seem  to  have  some  spiritual  meaning  apart 
from  the  letter — differing  in  this  from  all  other  combina- 
tions of  words — how  could  we  rest  till  we  got  the  plays 
and  learnt  most  of  the  notable  passages  by  heart,  croon- 
ing over  them  till  they  became  parts  of  our  intellectual 
being?  One  story,  I  remember,  shows  how  completely 
the  master  pervades  literature.  It  is  authentic,  too,  for 
the  teller  was  one  of  the  actors  in  it. 

Visiting  friends  in  a  country  town,  he  went  with  the 
family  to  church  Sunday  morning.  The  clergyman 
called  in  the  evening  and  seeing  upon  the  parlor  table 
an  open  copy  of  Shakespeare,  perhaps  suspecting  (which 
was  true)  that  our  friend  had  been  entertaining  the  ladies 
with  selections  from  it,  Sunday  evening  as  it  was,  he  felt 
moved  to  say  that  it  was  the  worldling's  bible,  which  for 
himself  he  thought  but  little  of  and  never  recommended 
for  general  reading.  It  was  the  mainstay  of  the  theatre. 
That  is  very  strange,  said  our  friend,  for  we  have  all  been 


138  Four-in-Hand  Z7t  Britain. 

saying  that  the  finest  part  of  your  sermon  was  a  short 
quotation  from  Shakespeare,  and  I  have  been  reading  the 
whole  passage  to  the  ladies.     Here  it  is : 

"  The  quality  of  mercy  is  not  strained  ; 
It  droppeth,  as  the  gentle  rain  from  heaven, 
Upon  the  place  beneath  :  it  is  twice  blessed  ; 
It  blesses  him  that  gives,  and  him  that  takes." 

Imagine  the  feelings  of  the  narrow,  ignorant  man,  who 
really  thought  he  had  a  call  from  God  to  teach  man- 
kind. But  he  could  not  help  it.  A  man  can  no  more 
escape  the  influence  of  Shakespeare  than  he  can  that  of 
surroundings.  Shakespeare  is  the  environment  of  all 
English-speaking  men. 

Davie's  Shakespearean  story  was  of  a  fellow  in  Ve- 
nango County  who,  having  just  "  struck  ile,"  bought  from 
a  pedler  a  copy  of  "  As  You  Like  It."  He  was  so  pleased 
with  Touchstone  that  he  wrote  to  the  pedler :  "  If  that 
fellow  Shakespeare  ever  writes  anything  more,  be  sure  to 
get  me  one  of  the  first  copies — and  d —  the  expense !  " 

We  had  one  of  the  loveliest  mornings  imaginable  for 
leaving  Stratford.  Many  had  assembled  to  see  the  start, 
and  our  horn  sounded  several  parting  blasts  as  we  crossed 
the  bridge  and  rode  out  of  the  town.  Our  destination 
was  Coventry,  twenty-two  miles  away,  and  the  route  lay 
through  Charlecote  Park  and  Hampton  Lucy.  This  was 
one  of  the  most  perfect  of  all  our  days.  The  deer  in 
hundreds  gazed  on  us  as  we  passed.  There  were  some 
noble  stags  in  the  herd,  the  finest  we  had  seen  in  Eng- 


Sir   Thomas  Lucy.  139 

land,  and  Charlecote  House  was  the  best  specimen  of 
an  Elizabethan  mansion.  It  was  built  about  1558  by 
the  very  Sir  Thomas  Lucy  whom  Shakespeare  satirized 
as  Justice  Shallow.  The  original  family  name  was 
Charlecote  or  Cherlcote,  but  about  the  end  of  the  twelfth 
century  William,  son  of  Walter  de  Cherlcote,  assumed 
the  name  of  Lucy  and  took  for  his  arms  three  luces 
(pike  fish)  ;  so  Justice  Shallow  was  warranted  in  affirming 
that  his  was  an  "  old  coat."  The  poet's  verses  will  stick 
to  him  as  long  as  the  world  lasts  ;  but  judging  from  other 
circumstances,  Sir  Thomas  was  a  very  good  sort  of  a 
man  and  no  doubt  a  fair  specimen  of  the  English  Squire 
of  the  time.  His  efifigy  may  still  be  seen  on  his  tomb 
in  Charlecote  Church,  beside  that  of  his  wife — a  not  un- 
intelligent face,  with  moustache  and  peaked  beard  cut 
square  at  the  end,  surrounded  by  the  ruff  then  in  fashion. 
There  is  no  epitaph  of  himself,  but  the  marble  bears  a 
warm  memorial  of  his  wife,  who  died  five  years  before 
him,  concluding  thus: 

"  Set  down  by  him  that  best  did  know 
What  hath  been  written  to  be  true." 

Thomas  Lucy. 

It  is  commonly  said  that  Shakespeare  was  arrested 
for  poaching  in  this  very  park,  but  the  antiquaries  have 
decided  that  it  was  the  old  park  of  Fulbrook  on  the 
Warwick  road,  where  Fulbrook  Castle  once  stood.  But 
it  makes  little  difference  where  the  precise  place  was. 
That  is  of  interest  only  to  the  Dryasdusts.     All  we  care 


140  Four-in-Hand  m  Britain. 

to  know  is  that  Shakespeare  wanted  a  taste  of  venison 
which  was  denied  him,  and  took  it  without  leave  or 
license.  The  descendant  of  that  squire,  my  gentle 
Shakespeare,  would  give  you  the  entire  herd  for  another 
speech  to  "the  poor  sequestered  stag,"  which  you  could 
dash  off — no,  you  never  dashed  off  anything;  create? 
no ;  evolved  ?  that's  nearer  it ;  distilled — there  we  have 
it — distilled  as  the  pearls  of  dew  are  distilled  by  nature's 
sweet  influences  unknown  to  man.  He  would  exchange 
Charlecote  estate,  man,  for  another  Hamlet  or  Macbeth, 
or  Lear  or  Othello,  and  the  world  would  buy  it  from  him 
for  double  the  cost  of  all  his  broad  acres,  and  esteem 
itself  indebted  to  him  forever.  The  really  precious 
things  of  this  world  are  its  books. 

To  do  things  is  not  one-half  the  battle.  Carlyle  is 
all  wrong  about  this.  To  be  able  to  tell  the  world 
what  you  have  done,  that  is  the  greater  accomplish- 
ment !  Caesar  is  the  greatest  man  of  the  sword  because 
he  was  in  his  day  the  greatest  man  of  the  pen.  Had 
he  known  how  to  fight  only,  tradition  would  have 
handed  down  his  name  for  a  few  generations  with  a  tol- 
erably correct  account  of  his  achievements;  but  now 
every  school-boy  fights  over  again  his  battles  and  sur- 
mounts the  difficulties  he  surmounted,  and  so  his  fame 
goes  on  increasing  forever. 

What  a  man  says  too  often  outlives  what  he  does, 
even  when  he  does  great  things.  General  Grant's  fame 
is  not  to  rest  upon  the  fact  that  he  was  successful  in 


BeatUiful  Trees.  141 

killing  his  fellow-citizens  in  a  civil  war,  all  traces  of 
which  America  wishes  to  obliterate,  but  upon  the  words 
he  said  now  and  then.  His  "Push  things!"  will  influ- 
ence Americans  when  Vicksburg  shall  be  forgotten. 
"  I  propose  to  fight  it  out  on  this  line  "  will  be  part  of 
the  language  when  few  will  remember  when  it  was 
spoken  ;  and  '■'■  Let  us  have  peace  "  is  Grant's  most  last- 
ing monument.  Truly,  both  the  pen  and  the  tongue 
are  mightier  than  the  sword  ! 

The  drive  from  Warwick  to  Leamington  is  famous, 
but  not  comparable  to  that  between  Leamington  and 
Coventry.  Nowhere  else  can  be  found  such  an  avenue 
of  stately  trees;  for  many  miles  a  strip  about  two  hun- 
dred feet  wide  on  both  sides  of  the  road  is  wooded.  In 
passing  through  this  plantation  many  a  time  did  we 
bless  the  good,  kind,  thoughtful  soul  who  generations 
ago  laid  posterity  under  so  great  an  obligation.  Dead 
and  gone,  his  name  known  to  the  local  antiquary  and 
appreciated  by  a  few  of  the  district,  but  never  heard  of 
beyond  it.  "So  shines  a  good  deed  in  a  naughty  world." 
Receive  the  warm  thanks  and  God  bless  you  of  pilgrims 
from  a  land  now  containing  the  majority  of  the  Eng- 
lish-speaking races,  which  was  not  even  born  when  you 
planted  these  stately  trees.  Americans  come  to  bless 
your  memory  ;  for  what  says  Sujata: 

"  For  holy  books  teach  when  a  man  shall  plant 
Trees  for  the  travellers'  shade,  and  dig  a  well 
For  the  folks'  comfort,  and  beget  a  son, 
It  shall  be  good  for  such  after  their  death." 


142  Four-in-Hand  in  BrUain. 

Who  shall  doubt  that  it  is  well  with  the  dear,  kind 
soul  who  planted  the  thousand  trees  which  delighted  us 
this  day,  nodding  their  graceful  boughs  in  genial  wel- 
come to  the  strangers  and  forming  a  triumphal  arch 
in  their  honor. 


Coventry,  June  24. 
Coventry  in  these  days  has  a  greater  than  Godiva. 
George  Eliot  stands  alone  among  women ;  no  second 
near  that  throne.  We  visited  the  little  school-room 
where  she  learnt  her  first  lessons ;  but  more  than  that, 
the  Mayor,  who  kindly  conducted  us  through  the  city, 
introduced  us  to  a  man  who  had  been  her  teacher.  "  I 
knew  the  strange  little  thing  well,"  he'  said.  A  proud 
privilege  indeed !  I  would  have  given  much  to  know 
George  Eliot,  for  many  reasons.  I  heard  with  some- 
thing akin  to  fellowship  that  she  longed  to  be  at  every 
symphony,  oratorio,  or  concert  of  classical  music,  and 
rarely  was  that  strong,  brooding  face  missed  at  such 
feasts.  Indeed,  it  was  through  attending  one  of  these 
that  she  caught  the  cold  which  terminated  fatally. 
Music  was  a  passion  with  her,  as  she  found  in  it  calm 
and  peace  for  the  troubled  soul  tossed  and  tried  by  the 
sad,  sad  things  of  life.  I  understand  this.  A  friend 
told  me  that  a  lady  friend  of  hers,  who  was  staying  at 
the  hotel  in  Florence  where  George  Eliot  was,  made 
her  acquaintance  casually  without  knowing  her  name. 
Something,  she  knew  not  what,  attracted  her  to  her, 
and  after  a  few  days  she  began  sending  flowers  to  the 


George  Eliot.  143 

strange  -woman.  Completely  fascinated,  she  went 
almost  daily  for  hours  to  sit  with  her.  This  continued 
for  many  days,  the  lady  using  the  utmost  freedom,  and 
not  without  feeling  that  the  attention  was  pleasing  to 
the  queer,  plain,  and  unpretending  Englishwoman.  One 
day  she  discovered  by  chance  who  her  companion 
really  was.  Never  before,  as  she  said,  had  she  felt  such 
mortification.  She  went  timidly  to  George  Eliot's  room 
and  took  her  hand  in  hers,  but  shrank  back  unable  to 
speak,  while  the  tears  rolled  down  her  cheeks.  "  What 
is  wrong?"  was  asked,  and  then  the  explanation  came, 
"  I  didn't  know  who  you  were.  I  never  suspected  it 
was  you  !  "  Then  came  George  Eliot's  turn  to  be  em- 
barrassed. "  You  did  not  know  I  was  George  Eliot,  but 
you  were  drawn  to  plain  me  all  for  my  own  self,  a 
woman?  I  am  so  happy!"  She  kissed  the  American 
lady  tenderly,  and  the  true  friendship  thus  formed  knew 
no  end,  but  ripened  to  the  close. 

The  finest  thing  not  in  her  works  that  I  know  this 
genius  to  have  said  is  this :  Standing  one  day  leaning 
upon  the  mantel  she  remarked:  "I  can  imagine  the 
coming  of  a  day  when  the  effort  to  relieve  human  being? 
in  distress  will  be  as  involuntary  upon  the  part  of  the 
beholder  as  to  clasp  this  mantel  would  be  this  moment 
on  my  part  were  I  about  to  fall."  There's  an  ideal  for 
you  !     Christ  might  have  said  that. 

The  state  here  imagined  is  akin  to  her  friend  Her- 
bert Spencer's  grand  paragraph. 


144  Four-in-Hand  in  Britain. 

"Conscientiousness  has  in  many  outgrown  that  stage 
in  which  the  sense  of  a  compelling  power  is  joined 
with  rectitude  of  action.  The  truly  honest  man,  here 
and  there  to  be  found,  is  not  only  without  thought  of 
legal,  religious,  or  social  compulsion,  when  he  discharges 
an  equitable  claim  on  him ;  but  he  2S  without  thought 
of  self-compulsion.  He  does  the  right  thing  with  a 
simple  feeling  of  satisfaction  in  doing  it,  and  is  indeed 
impatient  if  anything  prevents  him  from  having  the  sat- 
isfaction of  doing  it."  Who  is  going  to  cloud  the  hori- 
zon of  the  future  of  our  race  with  traitor-doubts  when 
already,  in  our  own  day,  amid  much  which  saddens  us, 
the  beams  of  a  brighter  sun,  herald  of  a  better  day, 
already  touch  the  mountain  tops,  for  such  are  this 
woman  and  this  man  towering  above  their  fellows.  By 
and  by  these  beams  will  reach  the  lesser  heights — and 
anon,  the  very  plains  will  be  transformed  by  them,  and 

"  Man  to  man  the  world  o'er  shall  brothers  be, 

And  a'  that." 

I  think  that  because  we  are  so  happy  in  this  glorious 
life  we  are  now  leading,  we  are  disposed  to  be  so  very 
kind  to  each  other.  The  Charioteers,  one  and  all,  seem 
to  me  to  have  reached  Mr.  Spencer's  ideal.  If  there's  a 
thing  that  can  be  done  to  promote  the  happiness  of 
others,  they  are  only  impatient  till  they  have  the  satis- 
faction of  doing  it.  Happiness  is  known  to  be  a  great 
beautifier — but   is   it    not   also   a  great  doer  of  good 


George  E Hoi's  Poetry.  145 

to  others?  It  was  resolved  to  debate  the  question 
whether  the  happy  person  is  not  also  the  one  who  really, 
thinks  most  and  does  most  for  others — not  for  hope  of 
reward  or  fear  of  punishment,  but  simply  because  he 
has  reached  the  stage  where  he  has  a  simple  satisfaction 
in  doing  it. 

Here  is  George  Eliot's  greatest  thing  in  poetry,  for 
her  poems  are  much  less  known  than  they  should  be. 

"  O  may  I  join  the  choir  invisible 
Of  those  immortal  dead  who  live  again 
In  minds  made  better  by  their  presence  :  live 
In  pulses  stirred  to  generosity, 
In  deeds  of  daring  rectitude,  in  scorn 
For  miserable  aims  that  end  with  self. 
In  thoughts  sublime  that  pierce  the  night  like  stars, 
And  with  their  mild  persistence  urge  rnen's  search 
To  vaster  issues. 

"  May  I  reach 
That  purest  heaven,  be  to  other  souls 
The  cup  of  strength  in  some  great  agony, 
Enkindle  generous  ardor,  feed  pure  love, 
Beget  the  smiles  that  have  no  cruelty — 
Be  the  sweet  presence  of  a  good  diffused, 
And  in  diffusion  ever  more  intense. 
So  shall  I  join  the  choir  invisible 
Whose  music  is  the  gladness  of  the  world." 

One  thing  more  about  our  heroine,  and  a  grand  thing, 
said  by  Colonel  Ingersoll.     "  In  the  court  of  her  own 


146  Four-in-Hand  in  Britai7t. 

conscience  she  sat  pure  as  light,  stainless  as  a  star."  I 
believe  that,  my  dear  Colonel.  Why  can  you  not  give 
the  world  such  gems  as  you  are  capable  of,  and  let  us 
alone  about  future  things,  concerning  which  you  know 
no  more  than  a  new-born  babe  or  a  D.D.  ? 

There  is  a  good  guide-book  for  Coventry,  and  there's 
much  to  tell  about  that  city.  It  was  once  the  ecclesias- 
tical centre  of  England.  Parliaments  have  sat  there 
and  great  things  have  been  done  in  Coventry.  Many 
curious  and  valuable  papers  are  seen  in  the  hall.  There 
is  the  order  of  Queen  Elizabeth  to  her  truly  and  well- 
beloved  Mayor  of  Coventry,  directing  him  to  assist 
Earls  Huntingdon  and  Shrewsbury  in  good  charge  of 
Mary  Queen  of  Scots.  There  is  a  mace  given  by  Crom- 
well to  the  corporation.  You  see  that  ruler  of  men 
could  bestow  maces  as  well  as  order  his  troopers  to 
"  take  away  that  bauble  "  when  the  commonwealth 
required  nursing.  These  and  many  more  rare  treasures 
are  kept  in  an  old  building  which  is  not  fire-proof — a 
clear  tempting  of  Providence.  If  I  ever  become  so 
great  a  man  as  a  councillor  of  Coventry,  my  maiden 
speech  shall  be  upon  the  enormity  of  this  offence.  A 
councillor  who  carried  a  vote  for  a  fire-proof  building 
should  some  day  reach  the  mayorship.  This  is  a  hint 
to  our  friends  there. 

The  land  question  still  troubles  England,  but  even 
in  Elizabeth's  time  it  was  thought  not  unconstitutional 
to    fix   rents   arbitrarily.     Here   lies    an    edict    of   Her 


Coventry   Cathedral.  147 

Majesty  good  Queen  Bess,  fixing  the  rates  for  pastur- 
age on  the  commons  near  Coventry :  "  For  one  cow 
per  week,  one  penny  ;  for  one  horse,  two-pence."  Our 
agriculturists  should  take  this  for  a  basis,  a  Queen 
Elizabeth  valuation  !  I  suppose  some  expert  or  other 
could  figure  the  "  fair  rent  "  for  anything,  if  given  this 
basis  to  start  upon. 

The  churches  are  very  fine,  the  stained-glass  windows 
excelling  in  some  respects  any  we  have  seen,  the  amount 
of  glass  is  so  much  greater.  The  entire  end  of  one  of 
the  cathedral  churches  is  filled  by  three  immense  win- 
dows reaching  from  floor  to  roof,  the  effect  of  which  is 
very  grand.  The  choir  of  this  church  is  not  in  line  with 
the  other  portion  of  the  building.  In  reply  to  my 
inquiry  why  this  was  so,  the  guide  boldly  assured  us, 
with  a  look  of  surprise  at  our  ignorance,  that  all  cathe- 
drals are  so  constructed,  and  that  the  crooked  choir 
symbolizes  the  head  of  Christ,  which  is  always  repre- 
sented leaning  to  one  side  of  the  cross.  The  idea  made 
me  shiver ;  I  felt  as  if  I  should  never  be  able  to  walk 
up  the  aisle  of  a  cathedral  again  without  an  unpleasant 
sensation.  Thanks  to  a  clear-headed,  thorough-going 
young  lady,  who,  "just  didn't  believe  it,"  we  soon  got 
at  the  truth  about  cathedrals,  for  she  proved  that  they 
are  everywhere  built  on  straight  lines.  This  guide  fitly 
illustrates  the  danger  of  good  men  staying  at  home  in 
their  little  island.  His  cathedral  is  crooked,  and  there- 
fore all  others  are  or  should  be  so.     Very  English  this. 


148  Four-in-Hand  in  Britain. 

very.  There  are  many  things  still  crooked  in  the  deaf 
old  tight  little  isle  which  other  lands  have  straightened 
out  long  ago,  or  rather  never  built  crooked.  Hurry  up, 
you  leader  of  nations  in  generations  past  !  It's  not  your 
role  in  the  world  to  lag  behind  ;  at  least  it  has  not  been 
till  lately,  when  others  have  "  bettered  your  instruc- 
tion."  Come  along,  England,  you  are  not  done  for ; 
only  stir  yourself,  and  the  lead  is  still  yours.  The  guide 
was  a  theological  student,  and  therefore  could  not  be 
expected  to  have  much  general  knowledge,  but  he  surely 
should  have  known  something  about  cathedrals. 

It  rained  at  Coventry  during  breakfast,  and  friend  G. 
ventured  to  suggest  that  perhaps  some  of  the  ladies 
might  prefer  going  by  rail  to  Birmingham  and  join  the 
coach  there,  at  luncheon  ;  but 

"  He  did  not  know  the  stuff 
Of  our  gallant  crew,  so  tough, 
On  board  the  Charioteer  O." 

He  was  "  morally  sat  upon,"  as  Lucy  says.  Not  a 
lady  but  indignantly  repelled  the  suggestion.  Even  Mrs. 
G.,  a  bride,  and  naturally  somewhat  in  awe  of  her  hus- 
band yet,  went  so  far  as  to  say  "  Tom  is  a  little  queer 
this  morning." 

Waterproofs  and  umbrellas  to  the  front,  we  sallied 
forth  from  the  courtyard  of  the  Queen's  in  a  drenching 
down-pour. 

"  But  what  care  we  how  wet  we  be, 
By  the  coach  we'll  live  or  die." 


The  Oxford  Don,  149 

That  was  the  sentiment  which  animated  our  breasts. 
For  my  part  I  was  very  favorably  situated,  and  I  held 
my  umbrella  very  low  to  shield  my  fair  charge  the  bet- 
ter. Of  course  I  greatly  enjoyed  the  first  few  miles 
under  such  conditions.  My  young  lady  broke  into  song, 
and  I  thought  I  caught  the  sense  of  the  words,  which  I 
fondly  imagined  was  something  like  this  : 

"  For  if  you  are  under  an  umbrella 
With  a  very  handsome  fellow, 
It  cannot  matter  much  what  the  weather  may  be." 

I  asked  if  I  had  caught  the  words  correctly,  but  she 
archly  insinuated  there  was  something  in  the  second 
line  that  wasn't  quite  correct.  I  think,  though,  she 
was  only  in  fun ;  the  words  were  quite  right,  only  her 
eyes  seemed  to  wander  in  the  direction  of  young  B. 

None  of  the  ladies  would  go  inside,  so  Joe  had  the 
compartment  all  to  himself,  and  no  doubt  smiled  at  the 
good  joke  as  we  bowled  along.  Joe  was  dry  inside,  and 
Perry,  though  outside,  was  just  the  same  ere  we  found 
an  inn.  This  recalled  the  story  of  the  coachman  and 
the  Oxford  Don,  when  the  latter  expressed  his  sym- 
pathy at  the  condition  of  the  former ;  so  sorry  he  was 
so  wet.  "  Wouldn't  mind  being  so  wet,  your  honor,  if 
I  weren't  so  dry''  But  I  think  R.  P.'s  story  almost  as 
good  as  that.  A  Don  tried  to  explain  to  the  coachman 
the  operation  of  the  telegraph  as  they  drove  along. 
"They  take   a  glass   about   the   size   of    an   ordinary 


150  Four-i7i-Ha7id  in  Britain. 

tumbler,  and  this  they  fill  with  a  liquid  resembling — . 
ah — like — ah —  "  *'  Anything  like  beer,  your  honor,  for 
instance?"  If  Jehu  didn't  get  his  complimentary  glass 
at  the  next  halt,  that  Don  was  a  muff. 

The  rain  ceased,  as  usual,  before  we  had  gone  far, 
and  we  had  a  clear  dry  run  until  luncheon.  We  see  the 
Black  Country  now,  rows  of  little  dingy  houses  beyond, 
with  tall  smoky  chimneys  vomiting  smoke,  mills  and 
factories  at  every  turn,  coal  pits  and  rolling  mills  and 
blast  furnaces,  the  very  bottomless  pit  itself ;  and  such 
dirty,  careworn  children,  hard-driven  men,  and  squalid 
women.  To  think  of  the  green  lanes,  the  larks,  the 
Arcadia  we  have  just  left.  How  can  people  be  got  to 
live  such  terrible  lives  as  they  seem  condemned  to 
here  ?  Why  do  they  not  all  run  away  to  the  green 
fields  just  beyond  ?  Pretty  rural  Coventry  suburbs  in 
the  morning  and  Birmingham  at  noon ;  the  lights  and 
shadows  of  human  existence  can  rarely  be  brought  into 
sharper  contrast.     If 

"  Better  fifty  years  of  Europe  than  a  cycle  of  Cathay  " 

surely  better  a  year  in  Leamington  than  life's  span  in 
the  Black  Country  !  But  do  not  let  us  forget  that  it  is 
just  Pittsburgh  over  again ;  nay,  not  even  quite  so  bad, 
for  that  city  bears  the  palm  for  dirt  against  the  world. 
The  fact  is,  however,  that  life  in  such  places  seems  at- 
tractive to  those  born  to  rural  life,  and  large  smoky 
cities  drain  the  country ;  but  surely  this  may  be  safely 


Overworked  Americans.  151 

attributed  to  necessity.  With  freedom  to  choose,  one 
would  think  the  rush  would  be  the  other  way.  The 
working  classes  in  England  do  not  work  so  hard  or  so 
unceasingly  as  do  their  fellows  in  America.  They  have 
ten  holidays  to  the  American's  one.  Neither  does  their 
climate  entail  such  a  strain  upon  men  as  ours  does. 

I  remember  after  Vandy  and  I  had  gone  round  the 
world  and  were  walking  Pittsburgh  streets,  we  decided 
that  the  Americans  were  the  saddest-looking  race  we 
had  seen.  Life  is  so  terribly  earnest  here.  Ambition 
spurs  us  all  on,  from  him  who  handles  the  spade  to  him 
who  employs  thousands.  We  know  no  rest.  It  is  dif- 
ferent in  the  older  lands — men  rest  oftener  and  enjoy 
more  of  what  life  has  to  give.  The  young  Republic  has 
some  things  to  teach  the  parent  land,  but  the  elder  has 
an  important  lesson  to  teach  the  younger  in  this  respect. 
In  this  world  we  must  learn  not  to  lay  up  our  treasures, 
but  to  enjoy  them  day  by  day  as  we  travel  the  path  we 
never  return  to.  If  we  fail  in  this  we  shall  find  when 
we  do  come  to  the  days  of  leisure  that  we  have  lost  the 
taste  for  and  the  capacity  to  enjoy  them.  There  are  so 
many  unfortunates  cursed  with  plenty  to  retire  upon, 
but  with  nothing  to  retire  to !  Sound  wisdom  that 
school-boy  displayed  who  did  not  "  believe  in  putting 
away  for  to-morrow  the  cake  he  could  eat  to-day."  It 
might  not  be  fresh  on  the  morrow,  or  the  cat  might  steal 
it.  The  cat  steals  many  a  choice  bit  from  Americans 
intended  for  the  morrow.     Among  the  saddest  of  all 


152  Four-in-Hand  in  Britain. 

spectacles  to  me  is  that  of  an  elderly  man  occupying 
his  last  years  grasping  for  more  dollars.  "  The  richest 
man  in  America  sailing  suddenly  for  Europe  to  escape 
business  cares,"  said  a  wise  Scotch  gentleman  to  me, 
one  morning,  as  he  glanced  over  the  Times  at  breakfast. 
Make  a  note  of  that,  my  enterprising  friends,  and  let 
it  be  recorded  here  that  this  was  written  before  my 
friend  Herbert  Spencer  preached  to  us  the  gospel  of 
relaxation. 

It  has  always  been  assumed  that  dirt  and  smoke  are 
necessary  evils  in  manufacturing  towns,  but  the  next 
generation  will  probably  wonder  how  men  could  be  in- 
duced to  live  under  such  disagreeable  conditions.  Many 
of  us  will  live  to  see  all  the  fuel  which  is  now  used  in  so 
thriftless  a  way  converted  into  clean  gas  before  it  is  fed 
to  the  furnaces,  and  thus  consumed  without  poisoning 
the  atmosphere  with  smoke,  which  involves  at  the  same 
time  so  great  a  loss  of  carbon.  Birmingham  and  Pitts- 
burgh will  some  day  rejoice  in  unsullied  skies,  and  even 
London  will  be  a  clean  city. 

We  spent  the  afternoon  in  Birmingham,  and  enjoyed 
a  great  treat  in  the  Public  Hall,  in  which  there  is  one  of 
the  best  organs  of  the  world.  It  is  played  every  Satur- 
day by  an  eminent  musician,  admission  free.  This  is 
one  of  the  little — no,  one  of  the  great — things  done  for 
the  masses  in  many  cities  in  England,  the  afternoon  of 
Saturday  being  kept  as  a  holiday  everywhere. 

Here  is  the  programme  for  Saturday,  June  25  : 


iowju  §iaU  ^tptt  ^uM. 

BY  MR.  STIMPSOH. 

From  3  till  4  o'clock. 

|1rogr:imme  for  |une25,  1881: 

1 .  Overture  to  A  Midsummer  Night's  Dream,       Mendelssohn. 

(It  will  only  be  necessary  to  state  this  descriptive  Overture  was 
written  in  Berlin,  August  6,  1826.  Shakespeare  and  Mendelssohn 
must  have  been  kindred  spirits,  for  surely  no  more  poetic  in- 
spiration ever  came  from  the  pen  of  any  musical  composer  than 
the  Overture  of  the  great  German  master.) 

2.  Romanza,         -         -         -  _         _         _         Haydn. 

(This  charming'  Movement  is  taken  from  the  Symphony  which 
Haydn  wrote  in  1786, for  Paris,  entitled  "■  La  Reinede  France," 
and  has  been  arranged  for  the  organ  by  Mr.  Best,  of  Liverpool ) 

3.  Offertoire,  in  J^  major,         _         _         _         _         batiste. 

'All  the  works  of  the  French  masters,  Wely,  Batiste,  Guilmant, 
and  Saint-Saens,  if  not  severely  classical,  have  a  certain  grace 
and  charm  which  make  them  acceptable  to  even  the  most  preju- 
diced admirers  of  the  ancient  masters  ;  and  this  Offertoire  of 
Batiste  is  one  of  the  most  popular  of  his  compositions.) 

4.  Fugue  in  G  minor,         -         -        -         -         J-  S.  Bach. 

(It  may  interest  connoisseurs  to  know  this  grand  Fugue  was  se- 
lected by  the  Umpires  for  the  trial  of  skill  when  the  present 
Organist  of  the  Town  Hall  was  elected.) 

5.  Jaglied  {Hunting  Song),         -         _         _         Schumann. 

6.  Selection  from  the  Opera ''''  Martha,'^         —        -      Flotow. 

(The  Opera  from  which  this  selection  is  taken  was  written  in  Vi- 
enna, in  1847,  and,  in  conjunction  with  "  Stradella,"  at  once 
stamped  the  name  of  the  author  as  one  of  the  most  popular  of 
the  dramatic  composers  of  the  present  day.) 

7.  Dead  Afarch  in  Saul,  _         _         _         -         Handel 


Price  ®ne  §^lfp^^R^* 
^  ■«  ■ » 

The  next  Free  Organ  Recital  will  be  given  on  July  2d, 

AT  THREE  O'CLOCK. 

A  HISTORY  OF    THE  TOWN  HALL  ORGAN  (a  New  Edition,  Revised  and 
Enlarged,)   by  Mr.  STIMPSON, 

Is  now  ready,  and  may  be  had  in  the  Town  Hall,  and  the  Midland  Educational 
Co.'s  Warehouse,  New  Street. 

NOTICE,— A  box  will  be  placed  at  each  door  to  receive  contributions,  to 
defray  the  expenses  of  these  Recitals. 


154  Four-i7i-Hand  m  Britain. 

The  Prima  Donna  said  she  had  never  before  heard  an 
organ  so  grandly  played,  and  she  knows.  The  manage- 
ment of  the  left  hand  in  the  fugue  she  declared  wonder- 
ful. It  is  best  to  give  the  best  for  the  masses,  even  in 
music,  the  highest  of  our  gifts.  John  Bright  has  made 
most  of  his  speeches  in  this  hall,  but  it  is  no  longer  large 
enough  for  the  Liberal  demonstrations,  and  a  much 
larger  structure  has  been  erected.    ' 

We  are  behind  in  providing  music  for  the  people,  but 
it  says  much  for  the  progress  of  the  Republic  in  these 
higher  domains,  from  whence  come  sweetness  and  light, 
that  the  greatest  tragic  singer,  Frau  Materna,  said  to  a 
friend  that  she  would  tell  Herr  Wagner  upon  her  return 
that  if  he  wished  to  hear  his  greatest  music  performed 
better  than  ever  it  had  been  before  he  must  come  to 
New  York.  Alas !  even  as  I  re-write  these  pages  comes 
the  sad  news  that  we  can  reap  no  more  from  that  genius. 
He  has  made  his  contribution  to  the  world,  and  a  noble 
one  it  is,  rejoicing  many  hearts  and  lifting  many  above 
their  surroundings  to  exquisite  enjoyments  beyond  ;  and 
now  he  closes  his  eyes  and  vanishes ;  the  long  day's  task 
is  ended  and  he  must  sleep. 

To-night  the  Symphony  Society  substitutes  for  an- 
other number  of  their  programme  his  Funeral  March.  It 
will  seem  like  a  voice  from  the  grave  not  a  dry  eye,  nor 
a  cold  heart  will  be  in  the  house.  A  soul  has  taken 
flight  to  whom  we  are  under  obligation,  which  must  in- 
crease and  increase  the  longer  we  live,  for  it  has  given 


Eurnaces  and  Coalpits.  155 

expression  to  much  that  is  of  our  highest  and  best,  and 
suggested  a  thousandfold  more  than  ever  could  be 
expressed.  Our  benefactor  is  indeed  gone,  in  a  sense 
material,  but  his  soul  lives  with  us  and  his  voice  will  still 
be  heard  calling  us  up  higher.  The  man  who  reveals  new 
beauties  in  music  enriches  human  life  in  one  of  its  highest 
phases,  and  is  to  be  ranked  with  the  true  poet.  He  who 
composes  great  music  is  the  equal  of  him  who  writes  great 
words ;  Beethoven,  Handel,  and  Wagner  are  worthy 
compeers  of  Shakespeare,  Milton,  and  Burns. 

The  eleven  miles  between  Birmingham  and  Wolver- 
hampton are  nothing  but  one  vast  iron-working,  coal- 
mining establishment.  There  is  scarcely  a  blade  of  grass 
of  any  kind  to  be  seen,  and  not  one  real  clean  pure  blade 
did  we  observe  during  the  journey.  It  was  Saturday 
afternoon  and  the  mills  were  all  idle,  and  the  operatives 
thronged  the  villages  through  which  we  drove.  O  mills 
and  furnaces  and  coal-pits  and  all  the  rest  of  you,  you 
may  be  necessary,  but  you  are  no  bonnie  !  Pittsburghers 
though  many  of  us  were,  inured  to  smoke  and  dirt,  we 
felt  the  change  very  deeply  from  the  hedgerows,  the 
green  pastures,  the  wild  flowers  and  pretty  clean  cot- 
tages, and  voted  the  district  "horrid."  Wolverhamp- 
ton's steeples  soon  came  into  sight,  and  we  who  had  been 
there  and  could  conjure  up  dear,  honest,  kindly  faces 
waiting  to  welcome  us  v/ith  warm  hearts,  were  quite  re- 
stored to  our  usual  spirits,  notwithstanding  dirt  and 
squalor.     The  sun  of  a  warm  welcome  from  friends  gives 


156  Four-in-Hand  in  Britain. 

many  clouds  a  silver  lining,  and  it  did  make  the  black 
country  brighter.  The  coach  and  horses,  and  Joe  and 
Perry,  not  to  mention  our  generalissimo,  belong  to  Wol- 
verhampton, as  you  know,  and  our  arrival  had  been 
looked  for  by  many.  The  crowd  was  quite  dense  in  the 
principal  street  as  we  drove  through.  One  delegation 
after  another  was  left  at  friends'  houses,  the  Charioteers 
having  been  billeted  upon  the  connection ;  and  here  for 
the  first  time  we  were  to  enjoy  a  respite. 


AVoLVERHAMPTON,  June  25-30. 

We  were  honored  by  an  entertainment  at  his  Honor 
the  Mayor's.  As  usual  on  fine  days  in  England,  the 
attractions  of  the  mansion  (and  they  are  not  small  in 
this  case)  gave  place  to  open-air  enjoyments  on  the 
lawn — the  game,  the  race,  the  stroll,  and  all  the  rest  of 
the  sports  which  charm  one  in  this  climate.  The  race 
across  the  lawn  was  far  better  fun  than  the  Derby,  but 
our  gentlemen  must  go  into  strict  training  before  they 
challenge  those  English  girls  again.  It  is  some  consola- 
tion that  Iroquois  has  since  vindicated  the  glory  of  the 
Republic. 

We  coached  one  day  about  fourteen  miles  to  Apley 
House,  and  had  a  joyous  picnic  day  with  our  friends 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  S ,  of  Newton.     The  party  numbered 

seventy  odd,  great  and  small.  That  day  the  Charioteers 
agreed  should  be  marked  as  a  red-letter  day  in  their 
annals,  for  surely  never  was  a  day's  excursion  produc- 


Small  Rivers.  157 

tive  of  more  enjoyment  to  all  of  us.  There  are  few,  if 
any,  prettier  views  in  England  than  that  from  the  ter- 
race at  Apley  House.  The  Vale  of  Severn  deserves  its 
reputation.  We  had  a  trip  on  the  river  for  several 
miles  from  Bridgenorth  to  the  grounds  as  part  of  the 
day's  pleasure. 

How  very  small  England's  great  rivers  are !  I  re- 
member how  deeply  hurt  Mr.  F was  when  his  Yan- 
kee nephew  (H.  P.  Jr.,  Our  Pard)  visited  him  for  the 
first  time,  and  was  shown  the  river  by  his  uncle,  who 
loved  it.  "  Call  this  a  river  ?  "  exclaimed  he,  "  why,  it's 
only  a  creek !  I  could  almost  jump  across  it  there." 
But  H.  P.  was  young  then,  and  would  not  have  hesitated 
to  "  speak  disrespectfully  of  the  equator "  upon  occa- 
sion. I  won  the  good  man's  heart  at  once  by  saying 
that  small  though  it  was  in  size  (and  what  has  either 
he  or  I  to  boast  of  in  that  hne,  I  wonder?)  little  Severn 
filled  a  larger  space  in  the  world's  destiny  and  the 
world's  thoughts  than  twenty  mighty  streams.     Listen : 

"  Three  times  they  breathed  and  three  times  did  they  drink 
Upon  agreement  of  swift  Severn's  flood, 
Who  then,  affrighted  with  their  bloody  looks, 
Ran  fearfully  among  the  trembling  reeds 
And  hid  his  crisp  head  in  the  hollow  bank, 
Blood-stained  with  these  violent  combatants." 

Why,  you  have  not  a  river  like  that  in  all  America. 
H.  P.  was  judiciously  silent.     But  I  do  not  think  he  was 


158  Four-ill' Ha7id  in  Britain. 

ever  quite    forgiven.      These   Americans  have   always 
such  big  ideas. 

The  free  library  at  Wolverhampton  interested  me. 
I  do  not  know  where  better  proof  of  the  advantages  of 
such  an  institution  is  to  be  found.  It  was  started  upon 
a  small  scale,  about  fifteen  thousand  dollars  being  ex- 
pended ;  now  some  forty  thousand  dollars  have  been 
spent  upon  the  building.  Last  year  eighty-six  thousand 
books  were  issued.  I  counted  at  noon,  June  30th,  sixty- 
three  persons  in  the  reading-room,  and  at  another  time 
nearly  two  hundred  readers.  On  Saturdays,  between 
two  and  ten  P.M.,  the  number  averages  fully  a  thou- 
sand. In  addition  to  the  circulating  library,  there  are  a 
reference  library,  a  museum,  and  large  reading-rooms. 
Several  courses  of  lectures  are  connected  with  the  insti- 
tution, with  teachers  for  the  various  branches.  One 
teacher,  a  Mr.  Williams,  has  "  passed  "  scholars  in  the 
science  and  art  department  every  year,  and  one  year 
every  one  of  his  scholars  passed  the  Kensington  examina- 
tion. A  working  plumber  who  attended  these  classes 
gained  prizes  for  chemistry  and  electricity,  and  is  now 
secretary  of  the  water-works  at  Chepstow.  We  may 
hear  more  of  that  climber  yet.  Plenty  of  room  at  the 
top !  No  sectarian  papers  are  subscribed  for,  but  all 
reputable  publications  are  received  if  sent.  In  this  way 
all  sects  are  represented  by  their  best,  if  the  members 
see  fit  to  contribute  them.  This  is  the  true  plan. 
"  Error  may  be  tolerated  if  truth  be  free  to  combat  it. 


A  People  s  Library.  159 

Let  truth  and  error  grapple."  This  city  levies  one 
penny  per  pound  upon  the  rates,  as  authorized  by  the 
Libraries  act.  This  nets  about  four  thousand  dollars  per 
annum.  Just  see  what  powerful  agencies  for  the  im- 
provement of  the  people  can  be  set  on  foot  for  a  trifling 
sum. 

And  do  not  fail  to  note  that  this  library,  like  all  others 
in  Britain  organized  under  the  Libraries  act,  does  not 
pauperize  a  people.  It  is  no  man's  library,  but  the 
library  of  the  people — their  own,  maintained  and  paid 
for  by  public  taxation  to  which  all  contribute.  An  en- 
dowed library  is  just  like  an  endowed  church,  at  best 
half  and  generally  wholly  asleep.  It  is  a  great  mistake 
to  withdraw  from  such  an  institution  the  healthy  breeze 
of  public  criticism ;  besides  this,  people  never  appreciate 
what  is  wholly  given  to  them  so  highly  as  that  to  which 
they  themselves  contribute. 

Wolverhampton  is  a  go-ahead  city  (I  note  a  strong 
Scotch  element  there).  A  fine  park,  recently  acquired 
and  laid  out  M'ith  taste,  shows  that  the  physical  well- 
being  of  the  people  is  not  lost  sight  of.  The  admin- 
istration of  our  friend  ex-Mayor  D.  is  to  be  credited 
with  this  invaluable  acquisition.  Mr.  D.  took  the 
most  prominent  part  in  the  matter,  and  having  suc- 
ceeded he  can  consider  the  park  his  own  estate.  It  is 
not  in  any  sense  taken  away  from  him,  nor  one  of  its 
charms  lessened,  because  his  fellow-citizens  share  its 
blessings.     Indeed  as  I  strolled  through  it  with  him  I 


i6o  Fotir-in-Hand  in  Britain. 

thought  the  real  sense  of  ownership  must  be  sweeter 
from  the  thousands  of  his  fellows  whom  we  saw  rejoic- 
ing within  it  than  if  he  were  indeed  the  lordly  owner  in 
fee  and  rented  it  for  revenue.  This  whole  subject  of 
meum  and  tuum  needs  reconsideration.  If  Burns,  when 
he  held  his  plough  in  joy  upon  the  mountain-side  and 
saw  what  he  saw,  felt  what  he  felt,  was  not  more  truly 
the  real  possessor  of  the  land  than  the  reputed  nominal 
landlord,  then  I  do  not  grasp  the  subject.  There  are 
woeful  blunders  made  as  to  the  ownership  of  things. 
Who  owns  the  treasures  of  the  Sunderland  or  Hamilton 
hbraries  ?  and  who  will  shed  the  tears  over  their  disper- 
sion, think  you,  chief  mourner  by  virtue  of  deepest  loss, 
the  titled  dis-graces,  in  whose  names  they  stand,  or  the 
learned  librarian  whose  days  have  been  spent  in  holy 
companionship  with  them?  It  is  he  who  has  made 
them  his  own,  drawn  them  from  their  miserable  owners 
into  his  heart.  I  tell  you  a  man  cannot  be  the  real 
owner  of  a  library  or  a  picture  gallery  without  a  title 
from  a  much  higher  tribunal  than  the  law.  Nor  a  horse 
either,  for  that  matter.  Who  owns  your  favorite  horse? 
Test  it !  I  say  the  groom  does.  Call  Habeeb  or  Rod- 
erick. So  slow  their  response !  I  won't  admit  they 
don't  know  and  like  me  too.  John  knows  my  weakness 
and  stands  out  of  sight  and  lets  me  succeed  slowly  with 
them ;  but  after  that,  see  at  one  word  from  him  how 
they  prick  up  their  ears  and  neigh,  dance  in  their  boxes, 
push  their  grand  heads  under  his  arm,  and  say  as  plainly 


Sister  Dora.  i6i 

as  can  be,  "This  is  our  man."  I'm  only  a  sleeping 
partner  with  John  in  them  after  all.  It's  the  same  all 
through ;  go  to  your  dogs,  or  out  to  your  flocks,  and  see 
every  sheep,  and  even  the  little  lambs,  the  cows  with 
their  kind,  glowering  eyes,  the  chickens,  and  every  liv- 
ing thing  run  from  you  to  throng  round  the  hand  that 
feeds  them.  There  is  no  real  purchase  in  money,  you 
must  win  friendship  and  ownership  in  the  lower  range 
of  life  with  kindness,  companionship,  love ;  the  coin  of 
the  realm  is  not  legal  tender  with  Trust,  or  Habeeb,  or 
Brownie,  nor  with  any  of  the  tribe. 

Let  us  not  forget  to  chronicle  a  visit  paid  to  Wal- 
sall, the  scene  of  Sister  Dora's  labors.  It  is  only  seven 
miles  from  Wolverhampton  in  the  very  heart  of  the  black 
country.  Dr.  T.  drove  us  out  to  the  crowded  smoky 
town,  and  we  followed  him  through  the  hospital  and 
heard  from  the  officials  many  interesting  stories  of  that 
wonderful  woman.  Our  friend  the  Doctor  also  knew 
her  well.  She  has  been  known  to  rush  through  a  crowd 
and  separate  brutal  men  who  were  fighting.  The  most 
debased  of  that  ignorant  mining  and  iron  manufacturing 
population  seemed  under  her  influence  to  an  incredible 
degree ;  but  then  her  sympathy  and  her  tender  devo- 
tion to  every  human  being  in  distress  were  no  doubt 
the  secret  of  her  power.  A  desperate  case  was  brought 
into  the  hospital  late  one  night.  The  physicians  pro- 
nounced his  recovery  hopeless,  but  Sister  Dora  was  not 
satisfied ;  indeed,  she  seemed  to  feel  instinctively  that 


1 62  Four-in-Hand  in  Britain. 

the  man  had  still  a  chance.  She  told  the  physicians  to 
leave  him,  as  she  felt  that  they  could  do  little  good 
after  they  had  given  up  hope,  and  took  charge  of  the 
case  herself.  She  told  the  poor  wretch  that  she  was 
going  to  stand  by  him  all  night  and  bring  him  through  ; 
and  having  faith  herself  she  inspired  it  in  the  patient, 
and  the  result  was  that  she  actually  saved  the  man's 
life.  Here  is  the  very  material  for  a  saint.  Had  this 
occurred  a  few  generations  ago,  or  were  it  to  occur  in 
some  parts  of  Italy  to-day.  Saint  Dora  would  surely  be 
added  to  the  calendar,  and  why  not !  Let  us  dispute 
over  the  miraculous  and  supernatural  as  we  may,  who 
will  deny  that  the  faith  of  this  noble  woman  and  the 
faith  transmitted  from  her  sympathetic  heart  to  the 
poor  sufferer  were  the  foundation  upon  which  his  re- 
covery was  built  up  ? 

This  incident  gave  rise  to  a  discussion  upon  the 
coach  one  day  as  to  the  influence  of  faith  in  one's  abil- 
ity to  do  certain  things  affecting  the  result.  The  man 
who  goes  in  to  win  may  win :  the  one  who  goes  in  to 
lose  can't  win.  So  far  all  were  agreed.  Some  of  our 
party  were  disposed  to  lament  the  lack  of  faith  which 
characterizes  this  age.  "  There  are  no  Abrahams  now- 
a-days,"  said  one.  "  What  would  you  do,  Tom,  if  you 
should  receive  a  message  commanding  you  to  offer  up 
your  son  upon  the  altar?"  "Well,"  said  Tom,  who 
was  a  telegraph  operator  in  his  early  days,  "  I  think  I 
should  first  ask  to  have  that  message  repeated."     All 


English  Hospitality,  163 

risfht.  So  would  we  all  of  us.  Still  there  is  a  wide 
province  for  faith.  If  it  does  not  exactly  remove 
mountains  now  a  days,  it  at  least  enables  us  to  tunnel 
them,  which  is  much  the  same  thing  as  far  as  prac- 
tical results  are  concerned. 

We  can  tell  you  nothing  of  the  hotels  of  Wolver- 
hampton, but  the  fourteen  of  us  can  highly  recommend 
certain  quarters  where  it  was  our  rare  privilege  to  be 
honored  guests.  Whether  the  English  eat  and  drink 
more  than  the  Americans  may  be  a  debatable  question, 
but  they  certainly  do  so  oftener.  The  young  ladies 
quartered  at  Newbridge  reported  this  the  only  bar  to 
perfect  happiness  ;  they  never  wanted  to  leave  the  gar- 
den for  meals  nor  to  remain  so  long  at  table.  As  the 
Prima  Donna  reported,  they  "  just  sound  a  gong  and 
spring  luncheons  and  teas  and  suppers  on  you."  The 
supper  is  an  English  institution,  even  more  sacred  than 
the  throne,  and  destined  to  outlive  it.  You  cannot 
escape  it,  and  to  tell  the  truth,  after  a"  little  you  have  no 
wish  to  do  so.  There  is  much  enjoyment  at  supper,  and 
in  Scotland  this  is  the  toddy-time,  and  who  would  miss 
that  hour  of  social  glee  ! 

Mention  must  be  made  of  the  private  theatricals  at 
Merridale  and  of  the  amateur  concert  at  Clifton  House, 
both  highly  creditable  to  the  talented  performers  and 
productive  of  great  pleasure  to  the  guests.  I  find  a 
programme  of  the  latter  and  incorporate  it  as  part  of 
the  record  : 


Clifton  ^§0\m,  W^alvtxUm^kn, 


JUNE  29TH,  1881. 


*>P]^661^^JlME^6F4»I)3agIC^ 


Pianoforte  Duet        .  .        "Oberon  "         .  .        ,  .      Rend Favayer 
Misses  A.  J.  B.  and  A.  C.  B. 

Song        "Twenty-one"        Molloy 

Miss  S.  D. 

Song        "The  Raft"  Pinsuii 

Mr.  B.  P. 
Ladies'  Trio      .  .       "  O  Skylark,  for  thy  wing  "  .  .       .  .       Smart 

The  Misses  B.  and  Miss  D. 
Song         .  .         .  .         "  A  Summer  Shower "     .  .         .  .  Marziales 

Miss  D. 

Song        .  .         .  .  "  The  Better  Land " Cowen 

Miss  M.  B. 
Song        .  .  .  .  "  The  Lost  Chord "        .  .         .  .  Sullivan 

Miss  P. 

Pianoforte  Solo       .  .      "La  Cascade"  Faiier 

Miss  A.  D. 
Song        .  .  .  .        "  Let  me  dream  again  "   .  .         .  •  Sullivan 

Miss  R. 

Song        .  .  .  .     .  .      "The  Diver"  Loder 

Mr.  A.  B. 

Song         .  .         .  .         "  My  Nannie's  awa' " 

Miss  J.  J. 

Duet        .  .     "  "When  the  Wind  blows  in  from  the  Sea  "        .  .     Smart 

Miss  M.  B.  and  Mr.  B.  P. 
Song        .  .         .  .         "  For  ever  and  for  ever"  .  .      Paolo  Tosti 

Miss  A.  J.  B. 
Song        .  .        .  .       "  The  Boatswain's  Story"  .  .       .  .     Molloy 

Mr.  B.  P. 

GOD  SAVE  THE  QUEEN. 


Private   Theatricals.  165 

A  great  many  fine  compliments  have  been  paid  to 
performers  in  this  world,  but  do  you  remember  one 
much  better  than  this  ?  Our  Prima  Donna  sang  "  My 
Nannie's  awa*,'*  my  favorite  among  twenty  favorites; 
and  she  did  sing  it  that  night  to  perfection.  We  were 
all  proud  of  her.  When  she  returned  to  her  seat  next 
to  M.,  there  was  whispered  in  her  ear:  "Oh,  Jeannie, 
the  lump's  in  my  throat  yet !"  All  the  hundred  warm 
expressions  bestowed  upon  her  did  not  weigh  as  much 
as  that  little  gem  of  a  tribute.  When  you  raise  the 
lump  in  the  throat  by  a  song  you  are  upon  the  right 
key  and  have  the  proper  style,  even  if  your  teacher  has 
been  no  other  than  your  own  heart,  the  most  important 
teacher  of  all. 

After  the  theatricals  at  Merridale  came  the  feast. 
The  supper-table  comes  before  me,  and  the  speeches. 
The  orator  of  the  Wolverhampton  connection  is  ex- 
Mayor  B.  He  speaks  well,  and  never  did  he  appear  to 
greater  advantage  than  on  that  evening.  It's  a  sight 
"gude  for  sair  een"  to  see  a  good-natured,  kindly  Eng- 
lish gentleman  presiding  at  the  festive  board,  surrounded 
by  his  children  and  his  children's  children,  and  the 
family  connections  to  the  number  of  seventy  odd. 
They  are  indeed  a  kindly  people,  but  oh  dear !  those 
who  have  never  been  out  of  their  little  island,  even  the 
most  liberal  of  them,  have  such  queer,  restricted  notions 
about  the  rest  of  mankind !  This,  however,  is  only 
natural ;  travel  is  in  one  sense  the  only  possible  educator. 


1 66  FoMr-i?i-Hand  m  Britain. 

England  has  been  so  far  ahead  of  the  world  until  the 
present  generation,  that  it  is  difficult  for  her  sons  to 
believe  she  is  sleeping  too  long.  The  best  speech  of 
the  evening  upon  our  side  was  made  by  Our  Pard,  who 
said  he  felt  that  after  he  had  forgotten  all  else  about 
this  visit,  the  smiling  faces  of  the  pretty,  rosy-cheeked 
English  young  ladies  he  had  been  admiring  ever  since 
he  came  to  Wolverhampton,  and  never  more  ardently 
than  this  evening,  would  still  haunt  his  thoughts;  and 
then,  with  more  emphasis,  he  closed  with  these  memor- 
able words:  "And  I  tell  you,  if  ever  young  men  ask  me 
where  they  can  find  the  nicest,  sweetest,  prettiest,  and 
best  young  ladies  for  wives,  they  won't  have  to  ask 
twice."     (Correct !  shake,  Pard  !) 

We  were  fortunate  in  seeing  the  statue  of  Mr.  Vil- 
liers  unveiled.  Earl  Granville  spoke  with  rare  grace 
and  ease,  his  style  being  so  far  beyond  that  of  the  other 
speakers  that  they  suffered  by  comparison.  The  sledge- 
hammer style  of  oratory  is  done.  Let  ambitious 
youngsters  make  a  note  of  that,  and  no  longer  strut  and 
bellow,  and  tear  a  passion  all  to  tatters,  to  very  rags. 
Shakespeare  understood  it : 

"  In  the  very  tempest  and  I  may  say  whirlwind  of  your  passion, 
You  must  beget  a  temperance  to  give  it  utterance." 

The  effort  now  making  throughout  Great  Britain  to 
provide  coffee-houses  as  substitutes  for  the  numerous 
gin  palaces  has  not  been  neglected  in  Wolverhampton. 


Coffee  Houses.  167 

The  Coffee  House  Company  which  operates  in  the  city 
and  neighborhood  has  now  fourteen  houses  in  success- 
ful operation,  and,  much  to  my  astonishment  and  grati- 
fication, I  learned  that  seven  and  a  half  per  cent,  divi- 
dends were  declared  and  about  an  equal  amount  of  profit 
reserved  for  contingencies.  In  Birmingham  there  are 
twenty  houses,  and  cash  dividends  of  ten  per  cent,  per 
annum  have  been  made.  If  they  can  be  generally  made 
to  pay  even  half  as  well,  a  grand  advance  has  been  made 
in  the  war  against  intemperance.  I  visited  one  of  the 
houses  with  ex-Mayor  D.,  who,  I  rejoice  to  say,  is  Chair- 
man of  the  Company,  and  in  this  great  office  does  more 
for  the  cause  than  a  thousand  loud-mouthed  orators 
who  only  denounce  the  evil  about  which  we  are  all 
agreed,  but  have  no  plan  to  suggest  for  overcoming  it. 
It  is  so  easy  to  denounce  and  tear  down ;  but  try  to 
build  up  once  and  see  what  slow,  discouraging  labor  is 
involved. 

The  prices  in  these  coffee-houses  are  very  low :  one 
large  cup  of  good  tea,  coffeej  or  cocoa,  at  the  counter, 
\d.  (2  cents) ;  one  sandwich,  \d.  (2  cents).  If  taken  up- 
stairs in  a  room  at  a  table,  one-half  more. 

There  is  a  reading-room  with  newspapers  free,  baga- 
telle-table, and  comfortable  sitting-rooms ;  also  a  ladies' 
room  and  a  lavatory,  and  cigars,  tobacco,  and  all  non- 
alcoholic drinks  are  provided.  Men  go  there  at  night 
to  read  and  to  play  games.  The  company  has  been 
operating  for  three  years,  and  the  business  increases 


1 68  Four-in-Hand  in  Britain. 

steadily.  We  saw  similar  houses  in  most  of  the  towns 
we  passed,  and  wished  them  God-speed. 

A  chairman  of  a  company  like  this  has  it  in  his  power 
to  do  more  good  for  the  masses,  who  are  the  people  of 
England,  than  if  he  occupied  his  time  as  member  of 
Parliament ;  but  the  English  exalt  politics  unduly  and 
waste  the  lives  of  their  best  men  disputing  over  prob- 
lems which  the  more  advanced  Republicans  have  settled 
long  ago  and  cleared  out  of  their  way.  They  will  learn 
better  by  and  by.  We  must  not  be  impatient.  They 
are  a  slow  race  and  prone  to  makeshifts  politically. 

A  delegation  of  the  Charioteers  passed  a  happy  day 
visiting  one  of  the  celebrated  homes  of  England,  Bilton 
Grange,  near  Rugby,  the  residence  of  Mr.  John  Lan- 
caster, whom  Americans  will  remember  as  the  owner 
of  the  yacht  "  Deerhound,"  who  rescued  Commander 
Semmes,  when  the  "  Kearsarge "  swept  the  infamous 
"Alabama"  from  the  seas.  Mr.  Lancaster  showed  us  the 
pistols  presented  to  him  by  the  Confederate  Officer  as 
token  of  gratitude.  This  seems  like  ancient  history 
already,  so  rapidly  has  the  Rebellion  and  all  thoughts 
thereof  faded  away.  Jefferson  Davis  goes  to  and  fro 
exciting  no  remark,  arousing  some  pity.  Had  he  been 
invested  with  the  crown  of  martyrdom,  how  different 
would  be  the  feeling  of  his  people  to-day!  It  is  with 
Davis  as  with  the  deserter  of  whom  Hon.  Daniel  J.  Mor- 
rell  tells:  He  took  the  mother  of  the  runaway  to  see 
President  Lincoln,  in  Washington,  to  plead  for  the  life 


Lincoln   and  the  Deserter.  169 

of  her  darling  boy,  who  had  been  court-martialed  and 
was  to  be  shot  in  a  few  days.  Lincoln  first  upbraided  my 
friend  for  subjecting  him  to  such  an  ordeal,  but  the  poor 
woman  was  already  in  the  room,  sobbing  as  if  her  heart 
would  break,  and  there  was  no  help  for  it.  Lincoln 
conducted  her  to  a  seat,  asked  a  great  many  questions, 
learned  that  the  boy  had  returned  to  work  at  Johnstown, 
and  provided  for  his  mother  and  sister  from  his  earnings, 
giving  as  an  excuse  for  leaving  the  army,  that  it  was 
lying  idle  on  the  banks  of  the  Potomac  and  he  knew  it 
could  not  move  until  spring. 

The  President  mused  a  few  moments,  apparently  un- 
decided what  action  to  take.  Even  the  woman  held  her 
breath  for  the  time  and  awaited  in  silence  the  word 
which  was  to  rejoice  her  or  doom  her  to  misery  forever. 
"  Well,  I  don't  believe  it  would  do  him  any  good  to 
shoot  him,  do  you,  madam?"  asked  Father  Abraham  of 
the  mother,  in  a  tone  of  inquiry  so  natural  that  one 
would  have  thought  he  was  actually  in  doubt  upon  the 
subject  himself  and  wanted  the  opinion  of  the  person 
who  knew  the  boy  best. 

The  mother  was  speechless.  During  the  inquiry  the 
President  had  been  rolling  a  small  strip  of  paper  into  a 
ball.  He  handed  this  to  Mr.  Morrell,  saying:  "Read 
that  when  you  get  out,  Daniel,  but  mind  you  don't  tell 
Stanton." 

Mr.  Morrell  beckoned  the  woman  to  the  door,  placed 
her  in  the  carriage,  read  the  slip,  and  ordered  the  coach- 


170  Four-in-Hand  in  Britain. 

man  to  drive  at  once  to  the  office  of  the  Provost  Mar- 
shal. Here  is  what  he  found  in  that  tiny  strip  :  "  P.M. 
Washington — Send  Private  Johnston,  Company  B,  9th 
Penn.  Infantry,  to  his  regiment.     A.  L." 

That  is  the  kind  of  thing  that  took  our  trusting 
hearts  and  gave  this  wood-chopper  of  IlHnois  such 
power  as  all  the  hereditary  monarchs  of  the  world  can 
never  hope  to  acquire.  Just  so  with  Jefferson  Davis  : — 
it  wouldn't  do  anybody  any  good  to  shoot  him.  Happy 
America !  strong  enough  to  laugh  at  all  powers  which 
talk  of  assailing  you. 

In  driving  to  and  from  Bilton  Grange,  we  passed 
famous  Rugby  and  talked  of  our  favorite  Tom  Brown. 
What  a  sad  pity  that  Mr.  Hughes  was  carried  away  by 
the  fascinations  of  a  scheme  for  transplanting  gentle 
manly  Englishmen  to  the  Rugby  colony  in  Tennessee  ! 
It  was  foredoomed  to  failure,  and  to  much  heart-burn- 
ing and  recrimination.  Of  all  men  in  the  world,  your 
well-educated  young  Englishman  is  least  adapted  for 
such  a  life  as  Tennessee  has  to  offer.  Had  the  West 
or  North-west  been  selected,  the  result  should  have  been 
different  so  far  as  pecuniary  considerations  are  con- 
cerned, for  even  poor  management  there  could  not  have 
kept  the  land  from  rising  in  value.  The  stream  of  emi- 
gration from  the  older  States  to  the  new  might  have 
told  these  men  where  to  go  ;  but  it  seems  that  when- 
ever foreigners  attempt  to  do  anything  in  America 
through  an  organization,  their  first  thought  is  how  to 


Moral  for  Englishmen,  171 

do  it  in  a  manner  as  far  as  possible  from  that  of  the 
Americans.  The  consequence  is,  they  generally  lose 
their  money.  Moral  for  our  English  cousins  :  "  When 
in  America  do  as  the  Americans  do."  If  they  settle  in 
Iowa  do  you  go  and  sit  down  beside  them  there.  And 
to  my  iron  and  steel  friends  in  this  little  island,  just 
one  word  :  If  Americans  are  not  overpoweringly  anx- 
ious to  develop  the  wonderful  resources,  say  of  Ala- 
bama, for  instance,  just  you  take  Rip  Van  Winkle's  plan 
"  go  home  and  t'ink  about  it  jest  a  leetle  "  before  you 
undertake  the  task.  These  Americans  do  not  know 
everything,  of  course,  but  it  is  just  possible  they  may 
know  something  about  their  own  country. 

"  Nae  man  can  tether  time  nor  tide, 
The  hour  approaches,  Tarn  maun  ride.'* 

Our  six  days  at  Wolverhampton  had  passed  rapidly 
away  in  one  continual  round  of  social  pleasures,  and 
now  we  were  off  again  to  fresh  woods  and  pastures  new. 
The  horn  sounds.  We  call  the  roll  once  more.  Mr.  B., 
Senior,  had  left  us  at  Windsor,  but  the  Junior  B.  he  sent 
us  fitly  represented  the  family.  If  he  couldn't  tell  as 
many  funny  stories  nor  quote  as  much  poetry  as  his 
sire,  the  young  Cambridge  wrangler  could  sing  college 
songs  and  give  our  young  ladies  many  glimpses  of 
young  England.  He  was  a  great  favorite  was  Theodore 
(young  Obadiah). 

Miss  B.  and  he  left  us  at  Banbury,  much  to  our  re- 


172  Four-in-Hand  in  Britain. 

gret,  but  London  engagements  were  imperative.  Mr 
and  Mrs.  K.  arrived.  If  ever  a  couple  received  a  warmer 
welcome  I  never  saw  nor  heard  of  it.  It  seemed  as  if 
we  had  been  separated  for  years,  and  how  often  during 
our  journey  had  one  or  another  of  the  party  regretted 
that  Aggie  and  Aaleck  were  missing  all  this. 

It  was  upon  the  ocean  that  Ben  and  Davie  conceived 
the  idea  that  a  run  to  Paris  would  be  advisable.  Leave 
of  absence  for  two  week  was  accordingly  granted  to 
four — Mr.  and  Mrs.  McC,  Miss  J.  and  Mr.  V. 

We  bade  them  good-bye  at  Wolverhampton,  Thurs- 
day, June  30th,  and  saw  them  fairly  off,  not  without 
tears  upon  both  sides  from  the  weaker  sex.  These 
partings  are  miserable  things  always.  Their  places  were 
taken  by  Miss  J.  R.  (a  Dunfermline  bairn),  Miss  A.  B., 
and  Mr.  D.  Next  morning  we  gathered  the  clans  at 
Mr.  G.'s,  calling  at  the  houses  of  several  other  friends 
for  the  contingent  they  had  so  kindly  entertained ; 
thence  to  Merridale  for  the  remainder  and  the  final 
start. 

It  was  a  sight  to  see  the  party  on  the  lawn  there  as 
we  drove  off,  giving  three  hearty  cheers  for  Wolver- 
hampton. In  special  honor  of  the  head  of  the  clan 
there,  the  master  of  Merridale,  we  had  just  sung  "  For 
he  is  an  Englishman."  Yes,  he  is  the  Englishman  all 
over.  Our  route  for  many  miles  was  still  in  the  black 
country,  but  near  Lichfield  we  reached  again  the  rural 
beauties  of  England.     How  thankful  to  get  away  once 


Lichfield  Cathedral.  173 

more  from  the  dirt  and  smoke  and  bustle  of  manufac- 
tories ! 

The  new  members  had  not  gone  far  before  they 
exhibited  in  an  aggravated  form  all  the  usual  signs  of 
the  mania  which  had  so  seriously  affected  all  who  have 
ever  mounted  our  coach.  The  older  members  derived 
great  pleasure  from  seeing  how  completely  the  recent 
acquisitions  were  carried  away.  Their  enthusiasm  knew 
no  bounds,  and  we  drove  in  to  the  Swan  at  Lichfield 
brimful  of  happiness.  We  had  left  Wolverhampton 
about  noon,  the  stage  for  the  day  being  a  short  one, 
only  twenty  miles. 

Lichfield,  July  i. 

The  cathedral  deserves  a  visit,  out  of  the  way  of 
travel  as  it  is.  Its  three  spires  and  its  chapter  house 
are  the  finest  we  have  yet  seen  ;  and  then  Chantrey's 
sleeping  children  is  worth  travelling  hundreds  of  miles 
to  see.  Never  before  has  marble  been  made  to  express 
the  childish  sleep  of  innocence  as  this  does. 

It  was  strange  that  I  should  stumble  upon  a  monu- 
ment in  the  cathedral  to  Major  Hodson,  whose  grave  I 
had  seen  in  India.  He  lies  with  Havelock  and  Law- 
rence in  the  pretty  little  English  cemetery  at  Lucknow, 
poor  fellow,  and  here  his  friends  and  neighbors  away  in 
quiet  Lichfield  have  commemorated  his  valor. 

How  well  do  I  remember  my  visit  to  that  historic 
burial  place  in  far  off  India  and  the  impression  made 
upon  me  as  I  stood  beside  the  tombs  of  the  heroes  who 


174  Fotir-m-Hand  in  Britain. 

fell  in  the  days  of  the  great  mutiny !  The  inscription 
on  Lawrence's  is  :  "  Here  lies  Henry  Lawrence,  who 
tried  to  do  his  duty."  What  could  you  add  that  would 
not  weaken  that  ? 

We  talked,  standing  by  Hodson's  monument,  of  the 
long  struggle  and  the  relief  at  Lucknow,  and  of  what  I 
had  written  of  it  in  my  "  Notes  of  a  Trip  round  the 
World."  As  it  pleased  the  Charioteers,  perhaps  I  may 
be  pardoned  for  quoting  a  part  of  it. 

"  Our  first  vis't  was  to  the  ruins  of  the  Residency, 
where  for  six  long  months  Sir  Henry  Lawrence  and  his 
devoted  band  were  shut  up  and  surrounded  by  fifty 
thousand  armed  rebels.  The  grounds,  which  I  should 
say  are  about  thirty  acres  in  extent,  were  fortunately 
encompassed  by  an  earthern  rampart  six  feet  in  height. 
You  need  not  be  told  of  the  heroic  resistance  of  the  two 
regiments  of  British  soldiers  and  one  of  natives,  nor  of 
the  famous  rescue.  Hour  after  hour,  day  after  day, 
week  after  week,  and  month  after  month,  the  three 
hundred  women  and  children,  shut  in  a  cellar  under 
ground,  watched  and  prayed  for  the  sound  of  Have- 
lock's  bugles,  but  it  came  not.  Hope,  wearied  out  at 
last,  had  almost  given  place  to  despair.  Through  the 
day  the  attacks  of  the  infuriated  mob  could  be  seen  and 
repelled,  but  who  was  to  answer  that  as  darkness  fell  the 
wall  was  not  to  be  pierced  at  some  weak  point  of  the 
extended  line  ?  One  officer  in  command  of  a  critical 
point  failing — not  to  do  his  duty,  there  was  never  a  fear 


Jessie  of  Luc  know.  175 

of  that — but  failing  to  judge  correctly  of  what  the  oc- 
casion demanded,  and  the  struggle  was  over.  Death 
was  the  last  of  the  fears  of  those  poor  women  night 
after  night  as  the  days  rolled  slowly  away.  One  night 
there  was  graver  silence  than  usual  in  the  room  ;  all 
were  despondent  and  lay  resigned  to  their  seemingly 
impending  fate.  No  rescue  came,  nor  any  tidings  of 
relief.  In  the  darkness  one  piercing  scream  was  heard 
from  the  narrow  window.  A  Highland  nurse  had  clam- 
bered up  to  gaze  through  the  bars  and  strain  her  ears 
once  more.  The  cooling  breeze  of  night  blew  in  her 
face  and  wafted  such  music  as  she  could  not  stay  to 
hear.  One  spring  to  the  ground,  a  clapping  of  hands 
above  her  head,  and  such  a  shriek  as  appalled  her  sisters 
who  clustered  around ;  but  all  she  could  say  between 
the  sobs — '  The  slogan !  the  slogan  ! '  Few  knew 
what  the  slogan  was.  '  Didna  ye  hear?  Didna  ye 
hear  ? '  cried  the  almost  demented  girl,  and  then  listen- 
ing one  moment  that  she  might  not  be  deceived,  she 
muttered,  '  It's  the  Macgregors  Gathering,  the  grandest 
o'  them  a','  and  fell  senseless  to  the  ground. 

"Truly,  my  lassie,  the  '  grandest  o'  them  a*,'  for  never 
came  such  strains  before  to  mortal  ears.  And  so  Jessie 
of  Lucknow  takes  her  place  in  history  as  one  of  the 
finest  themes  for  painter,  dramatist,  poet,  or  historian, 
henceforth  and  forever.  I  have  some  hesitation  whether 
the  next  paragraph  in  my  note-book  should  go  down 
here  or  be  omitted.     Probably  it  would  be  in  better 


176  Four-in-Hand  in  Britain. 

taste  if  quietly  ignored,  but  then  it  would  be  so  finely 
natural  if  put  in.  Well,  I  shall  be  natural  or  nothing, 
and  recount  that  I  could  not  help  rejoicing  that  Jessie 
was  Scotch,  and  that  Scotchmen  first  broke  the  rebel 
lines  and  reached  the  fort,  and  that  the  bagpipes  led  the 
way.  That's  all.  I  feel  better  now  that  this  also  is  set 
down." 

In  Lichfield  cathedral  are  seven  very  fine  stained- 
glass  windows  which  were  found  stowed  away  in  a 
farm-house  in  Belgium,  and  purchased  by  an  English 
gentleman  for  ;^200,  and  now  they  rank  among  the  most 
valuable  windows  in  the  world.  What  a  pity  that  the 
treasures  wantonly  destroyed  during  the  Reformation 
had  not  found  similar  shelter,  to  be  brought  from  their 
hiding-places  once  more  to  delight  us  ! 

We  heard  service  Saturday  morning,  and  mourned 
over  the  waste  of  exquisite  music — twenty-six  singers  in 
the  choir  and  only  ten  persons  to  listen  in  the  vast 
cathedral,  besides  our  party.  It  is  much  the  same 
throughout  England.  In  no  case  during  week  days  did 
we  ever  see  as  many  persons  in  the  congregation  as  in 
the  choir.  Surely  the  impressive  cathedrals  of  England 
are  capable  of  being  put  to  better  uses  than  this.  It 
seems  a  sin  to  have  such  choirs  and  not  conduct  them 
in  some  way  to  reach  and  elevate  greater  numbers.  In 
no  building  would  an  oratorio  sound  so  well.  Why 
should  not  these  choirs  be  made  the  nucleus  for  a  cho- 
rus in  every  district,  and  let  us  have  music  which  would 


Church  Music.  177 

draw  the  masses  within  the  sacred  walls  ?  But  maybe 
this  would  be  sacrilegious.  Theological  minds  may  see 
in  the  music  suggested  an  unworthy  intruder  in  do- 
mains sacred  to  dogma  ;  but  they  should  remember  that 
the  Bible  tells  us  that  in  heaven  music  is  the  principal 
source  of  happiness — the  sermon  seems  nowhere — and 
it  may  go  hard  with  such  as  fail  to  give  it  the  first  place 
on  earth.  In  this  view  of  the  case  it  was  decided  to-day 
upon  the  coach  that  what  some  had  hitherto  thought  a 
scandal,  viz.,  that  the  choirs  of  most  of  our  fashionable 
churches  cost  more  than  all  the  other  expenses  of  the 
church,  and  that  organists  and  sopranos  receive  a  much 
larger  salary  considering  the  time  given  than  the  minis- 
ters ;  or,  as  one  of  the  young  ladies  put  it,  "  More  is 
paid  for  music  than  for  religion  " — all  this,  instead  of 
being  reprehensible,  as  some  have  unthinkingly  believed, 
may  really  be,  and  probably  is,  quite  in  accordance  with 
the  proper  order  of  worship.  Well,  I  am  not  going  to 
grudge  Miss  B.  her  three  thousand  dollars  a  year  any 
longer,  said  a  vestryman ;  so  he  was  converted  to  the 
theory  that  music  stands  upon  strong  ground.  Some 
day,  however,  my  lord  bishop  and  lazy  crew,  the  cathe- 
drals of  England  will  not  be  yours  alone  to  drone  in, 
but  become  mighty  centres  of  grand  music,  from  which 
shall  radiate  elevating  influences  over  entire  districts; 
and  the  best  minds  of  the  nation,  remembering  how 
narrow  and  bigoted  the  church  was  when  these  struct* 
ures  were  built,  will  change  the  poet's  line  and  say: 


178  Fotir-in-Hand  in  Britain. 

"  To  what  great  uses  /lave  they  come  at  last !  " 

The  world  moves  and  the  church  estabhshment  must 

move  with  it,  or this  is  a  splendid  place  to  stop — 

there  is  as  great  virtue  in  your  "  or  "  as  in  your  "  if," 
sometimes.  Here  is  the  best  description  of  service  in 
an  English  cathedral : 

"  And  love  the  high  embower'd  roof, 
With  antique  pillars  massy  proof, 
And  storied  windows  richly  dight, 
Casting  a  dim  religious  light : 
There  let  the  pealing  organ  blow, 
To  the  full  voic'd  choir  below, 
In  service  high  and  anthems  clear, 
As  may  with  sweetness,  through  my  ear. 
Dissolve  me  into  ecstasies. 
And  bring  all  heaven  before  mine  eyes." 

The  music  at  Lichfield  does  indeed  draw  you  into 
regions  beyond  and  intimates  immortality,  and  we  ex- 
claim with  friend  Izaak  Walton,  "  Lord,  what  music 
hast  thou  provided  for  the  saints  in  heaven,  when  thou 
affordest  bad  men  such  music  on  earth  !  " 

I  remember  that  when  in  China  I  read  that  Confu- 
cius was  noted  for  his  intense  passion  for  music.  He 
said  one  day  to  his  disciples  that  music  not  only  ele- 
vates man  while  he  is  listening,  but  that  to  those 
who  love  it  music  is  able  to  create  distinct  images  which 
remain  after  the  strains  cease  and  keep  the  mind  from 
base  thoughts.     Think  of  the  sage  knowing  this  when 


The  Coach.  179 

he  had  probably  only  the  sing-song  Chinese  fiddle  to 
console  him !  I  forget,  he  had  the  gongs,  and  a  set  of 
fine  gongs  of  different  tones  make  most  suggestive 
music,  as  I  have  discovered. 

The  position  of  Lichfield  Cathedral  is  peculiarly 
fine.  Three  sides  of  the  square  surrounding  it  are  occu- 
pied by  splendid  ecclesiastical  buildings  connected  with 
the  diocese,  including  the  bishop's  palace.  A  beautiful 
sheet  of  water  lies  upon  the  lower  side,  so  that  nothing 
incongruous  meets  the  eye. 

We  obtained  there  a  better  idea  of  the  magnitude 
of  the  church  establishment  and  its  to  us  seemingly 
criminal  waste  of  riches  than  ever  before.  To  think  of 
all  this  power  for  good  wasting  itself  upon  a  beggarly 
account  of  empty  benches,  the  choir  outnumbering  the 
congregation  ! 

We  had  ordered  the  coach  to  come  and  await  us  at 
the  cathedral,  but  had  not  expected  Perry  to  drive  up 
to  the  very  door.  There  the  glittering  equipage  was, 
however,  surrounded  by  groups  of  pretty,  rosy  children 
and  many  older  people  gazing  respectfully.  There  is 
something  about  a  well-appointed  coach  and  four  which 
is  calculated  to  puff  a  man  up  with  vanity.  I  remem- 
ber I  had  been  absorbed  in  the  service,  and  afterward  in 
wandering  about  the  cathedral  had  had  my  thoughts 
carried  back  to  India.  I  was  again  in  the  crowded 
streets  of  Benares  mounted  upon  the  richly  caparisoned 
elephants  of   the  Rajah,  and  anon  strolling  upon  the 


t8o  Four-in-Hand  in  Britain. 

Apollo  Bunder  in  Bombay,  one  of  a  crowd  the  gorgeous 
coloring  of  which  equals  any  scene  ever  given  in  grand 
opera.  I  reached  the  cathedral  door  in  a  kind  of  trance ; 
the  gay  coach,  the  horses  and  their  sparkling  harness, 
and  Joe  and  Perry  in  their  livery  burst  upon  me,  and 
looking  up  and  around  I  did  feel  that  we  were  a 
"  swell  "  party,  and  had  ever  so  much  to  be  thankful 
for.  It  is  a  source  of  never  failing  pleasure  to  stand 
and  see  the  Charioteers  mount  the  coach — they  are  all 
so  happy,  and  I  am  '*  so  glad  they  are  glad."  And  so 
we  mounted  and  drove  off,  taking  a  last  fond  look  of 
grand  old  Lichfield. 


DOVEDALE,   July  2-3. 

Our  objective  point  was  Dovedale,  thirty  miles  dis- 
tant. When  three  miles  out  we  stopped  at  Elmhurst 
Hall  for  Miss  F.,  who  had  preceded  us  to  pay  a  visit  to 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  F — x,  who  very  kindly  invited  the  party  to 
dismount  and  lunch  with  them ;  but  the  thirty  miles  to 
be  done  would  not  permit  us  the  pleasure.  The  next 
time  we  pass,  however,  good  master  and  mistress  of 
Elmhurst  Hall,  you  shall  certainly  have  the  Charioteers 
within  your  hospitable  walls,  if  you  desire  it,  for  such  an 
inviting  place  we  have  rarely  seen. 

We  were  to  lunch  in  Sudbury  Park,  the  residence  of 
Lord  Vernon.  This  was  the  first  grassy  luncheon  of 
the  five  new-comers,  and  we  were  all  delighted  to  see 
their  enjoyment  of  this  most  Arcadian  feature  of  our 


SudbiLvy  Park.  i8i 

coaching  life.  It  proved  to  be  one  of  our  pleasantest 
luncheons,  for  there  is  no  finer  spot  in  England  than 
Sudbury  Park.  Of  course  it  is  not  the  glen  nor  the 
wimpling  burn  of  the  Highlands,  but  for  quiet  England 
it  is  superb. 

The  site  chosen  was  near  a  pretty  brook.  Before  us 
was  the  old-fashioned  brick  Queen  Anne  mansion,  and 
behind  us  in  the  park  was  a  cricket  ground,  where  a 
match  between  two  neighboring  clubs  was  being  wor- 
thily contested.  The  scene  was  indeed  idyllic.  There  was 
never  more  fun  and  laughter  at  any  of  our  luncheons. 
Aaleck  had  to  be  repressed  at  last,  for  several  of  the 
members  united  in  a  complaint  against  him.  Their 
sides  ached,  but  that  they  did  not  mind  so  much ;  their 
anxiety  was  about  their  cheeks,  which  were  seriously 
threatened  with  an  explosion  if  they  attempted  to  eat. 
To  avoid  such  results  it  was  voted  that  no  one  should 
make  a  joke  nor  even  a  remark.  Silence  was  enjoined  ; 
but  what  did  that  amount  to  !  The  signs  and  grimaces 
were  worse  than  speech.  Force  was  no  remedy.  It 
took  time  to  get  the  party  toned  down,  but  eventually 
the  lunch  was  finished. 

We  strolled  over  and  watched  the  cricketers.  It  all 
depends  upon  how  you  look  at  a  thing.  So  many  able- 
bodied  perspiring  men  knocking  about  a  little  ball  on  a 
warm  summer's  day,  that  is  one  way;  so  many  men 
relieved  from  anxious  care  and  laying  the  foundation 
for  long  years  of  robust  health  by  invigorating  exercise 


1 82  Four-in-Hand  i7t  Britain. 

in  the  open  air,  that  is  the  other  view  of  the  question. 
The  ancients  did  not  count  against  our  httle  span  of 
life  the  days  spent  in  the  chase ;  neither  need  we  charge 
those  spent  in  cricket ;  and  as  for  our  sport,  coaching, 
for  every  day  so  spent  we  decided  that  it  and  another 
might  safely  be  credited.  He  was  a  very  wise  prime 
minister  who  said  he  had  often  found  important  duties 
for  which  he  had  not  time ;  one  duty,  however,  he  had 
always  made  time  for,  his  daily  afternoon  ride  on  horse- 
back. Your  always  busy  man  accomplishes  little ;  the 
great  doer  is  he  who  has  plenty  of  leisure.  The  man  at 
the  helm  turns  the  wheel  now  and  then,  and  so  easily 
too,  touching  an  electric  bell ;  it's  the  stoker  down  be- 
low who  is  pitching  into  it  with  his  coat  off.  And  look 
at  Captain  McMicken  promenading  the  deck  in  his 
uniform  and  a  face  like  a  full  moon ;  quite  at  his  ease 
and  ready  for  a  story.  And  there  is  Johnnie  Watson, 
chief  engineer,  who  rules  over  the  throbbing  heart  of 
the  ship ;  he  is  standing  there  prepared  for  a  crack. 
Moral :  Don't  worry  yourself  over  work,  hold  yourself 
in  reserve,  and  sure  as  fate,  "  it  will  all  come  right  in 
the  wash." 

Leaving  the  contestants,  we  walked  down  to  the  lake 
in  front  of  the  mansion,  and  with  our  usual  good  for- 
tune we  were  just  in  time  to  see  the  twenty  acres  of 
ornamental  water  dragged  for  pike,  which  play  such 
havoc  with  other  fish.  The  water  had  been  drained 
into  a  small  pond,  which  seemed  alive  with  bewildered 


Adam  and  Eve.  183 

fish.  We  sat  and  watched  with  quiet  interest  the  men 
drawing  the  net.  Hundreds  were  caught  at  every  haul, 
from  which  the  pike  were  taken.  A  tremendous  eel 
gave  the  men  a  lively  chase ;  three  or  four  times  it  es- 
caped, wriggled  through  their  legs  and  hands  one  after 
the  other,  and  made  for  the  water.  Had  the  game- 
keeper not  succeeded  in  pinning  it  to  the  ground  with 
a  pitchfork,  the  eel  would  have  beaten  the  whole 
party. 

Lord  Vernon's  park  is  rich  in  attractions.  An  old 
narrow  picturesque  arched  bridge,  which  spans  the  pret- 
ty lake,  has  a  statue  of  Adam  at  one  end  and  Eve  at 
the  other.  Over  the  former  the  ivy  clusters  so  thickly 
as  to  make  our  great  prototype  a  mass  of  living  green ; 
poor  Eve  has  been  less  favored,  for  she  is  in  a  pitiable 
plight  for  a  woman,  with  "nothing  to  wear." 

But  Eve  was  not  used  to  kind  treatment.  Adam  was 
by  no  means  a  modern  model  husband,  and  never  gave 
Eve  anything  in  excess  except  blame.  Here  she  is  still, 
the  Flora  McFlimsy  of  my  friend  William  Allen  Butler 
(minus  the  flora  as  I  have  said);  but  let  her  be  patient, 
her  dress  is  sure  to  come,  for  kind  nature  in  England 
abhors  nakedness.  She  is  ever  at  work  clothing  every- 
thing with  her  mantle  of  green. 

"  Ever  and  ever  bringing  secrets  forth, 
It  sitteth  in  the  green  of  forest  glades 
Nursing  strange  seedlings  at  the  cedar's  root, 
Devising  leaves,  blooms,  blades. 


f84  Four-i7i-Hand  in  Britain, 

This  is  its  touch  upon  the  blossomed  rose, 
The  fashion  of  its  hand-shaped  lotus  leaves  ; 
In  dark  soil  and  the  silence  of  the  seeds 
The  robe  of  Spring  it  weaves." 

We  had  rare  enjoyment  at  the  lake,  and  envied  Lord 
Vernon  his  princely  heritage.  The  old  forester  who 
once  showed  me  over  a  noble  estate  in  Scotland  was 
quite  right.  I  was  enchanted  with  one  of  the  views, 
and  repeated. 

"  Where  is  the  coward  who  would  not  dare 
To  fight  for  such  a  land  !  " 

"Aye,"  said  the  old  man,  "aye,  it's  a  grand  country, 
for  the  lairds!'  It  will  be  a  grander  country  some  day 
when  it  is  less  "  for  the  lairds  "  and  more  for  the  toiling 
masses;  but  may  the  destroying  angel  of  progress  look 
kindly  upon  such  scenes  of  beauty  as  Sudbury  Park. 
The  extensive  estate  may  be  disentailed  and  cultivated 
by  a  thousand  small  owners  in  smiling  homes,  with  edu- 
cated children  within  them,  and  the  land  bring  forth 
greater  harvests  touched  by  the  magic  wand  of  the 
sense  of  ownership — for  it  makes  an  infinite  difference 
to  call  a  thing  your  own — and  yet  the  mansion  and  park 
remain  intact  and  give  to  its  possessor  rarer  pleasures 
than  at  present.  I  think  one  of  the  greatest  drawbacks 
to  life  in  Britain  in  grand  style  must  be  the  contrast 
existing  between  the  squire  and  the  people  about  him. 
It  is  bad  enough  even  in  Chester  Valley,  where  the 
average  condition  and  the  education  of  the  inhabitants 


Horseback  Riding.  185 

are  probably  equal  to  any  locality  in  the  world,  but  in 
England  it  is  far  too  marked  for  comfort,  I  should 
think. 

While  we  were  still  lingering  on  the  banks  of  the  lake 
Perry's  horn  sounded  from  the  main  road  to  call  us 
from  the  enchanting  scene,  and  we  were  off  for  Dove- 
dale  through  pretty  Ashbourne. 

As  we  bowled  along  the  conversation  turned  upon 
horseback  riding,  and  some  one  quoted  the  famous 
maxim,  "the  outside  of  a  horse  for  the  inside  of  a 
man."  "  But  what  about  a  woman?"  asked  F.  "Oh," 
answered  Puss,  "  the  outside  of  a  horse  for  the  inside 
of  a  woman  and  the  outside  as  well,  for  in  no  other 
position  can  a  woman  ever  possibly  look  so  captivating 
as  on  a  horse.  Girls  who  ride  in  the  park  have  double 
chances."  A  voice  from  the  front — "  You  are  right." 
Our  Pard  there  admits  that  he  had  no  idea  of  falling  in 
love  with  Annie  until  he  saw  her  on  horseback ;  and 
when  he  had  ridden  with  her  a  few  times  he  was  con- 
quered.    A  woman  looks  her  loveliest  on  horseback. 

"  That  is  not  Mrs.  Parr's  opinion,"  rejoined  a  young 
lady  on  the  front  seat.  "  I  think  it  is  in  her  splendid '  Dor- 
othy Fox  '  she  says  that  a  woman  never  shows  so  clearly 
the  angel  of  beauty  which  dwells  in  a  good  woman's 
heart  as  when  she  murmurs  her  yes  to  her  lover." 

"  Oh,  that's  not  fair,"  came  from  the  back  row. 
"That's  too  short,  only  a  moment;  and  besides  only  one 
man  sees  it.      That  doesn't  count.     We  mean  that  a 


1 86  Four-in-Hand  in  Britain. 

woman  shows  off  better  on  horseback  than  anywhere 
else." 

"Oh!"  said  the  cynic,  "is  that  it,  Miss?  Nothing 
counts  without  the  showing  off,  eh  I  "  And  so  we  rattled 
on  interrupted  at  intervals  by  exclamations  called  forth 
by  England's  unique  beauty. 

Can  any  one  picture  a  resting-place  so  full  of  peace 
and  beauty  as  the  old  Izaak  Walton  Inn  ?  We  arrived 
there  in  the  twilight,  and  some  of  us  walked  down  the 
long  hill  and  got  our  first  sight  of  the  Dove  from  the 
bridge  at  the  foot  across  the  stream. 

I  got  the  memorable  verses  near  enough  from  mem- 
ory to  repeat  them  on  the  bridge.  Let  me  put  them 
down  here,  for  in  truth,  simple  as  they  are,  who  is  going 
to  predict  the  coming  of  the  day  when  they  will  cease 
to  be  prized  as  one  of  the  gems  of  literature  ? 

"  She  dwelt  among-  the  untrodden  ways, 
Beside  the  springs  of  Dove, 
A  maid  whom  there  were  none  to  praise. 
And  very  few  to  love. 

"  A  violet  by  a  mossy  stone. 
Half  hidden  from  the  eye  ; 
Fair  as  a  star  when  only  one 
Is  shining  in  the  sky. 

"  She  lived  unknown,  and  few  could  know 
When  Lucy  ceased  to  be  ; 
But  she  is  in  her  grave,  and  oh, 
The  difference  to  me  ! " 


Ham  Hall.  187 

But  think  of  dear  old  Izaak  and  of  his  fishing  ex- 
cursions to  this  very  spot.  He  actually  stayed  at  our 
inn  !  He  too  is  secure  of  his  position  as  the  author  of 
a  classic  for  as  long  a  time  as  we  care  to  look  forward 
to.  Is  it  not  strange  that  no  one  has  ever  imitated  this 
man's  unique  style  ?  "  God  leads  us  not  to  heaven 
by  many  nor  by  hard  questions,"  says  the  fisherman, 
and  he  knew  a  thing  or  two.  There  is  a  flavor  about 
him  peculiarly  his  own,  but  especially  rich  when  read  in 
this  old  inn,  sacred  to  his  memory.  I  enjoyed  him  with 
a  fresh  relish  during  the  few  hours  of  Sunday  which  I 
could  devote  to  him,  for  there  is  a  good  sermon  in  many 
a  sentence  of  the  "  Complete  Angler."  Dear  old  boy, 
your  place  in  my  library  and  in  my  heart  too  is  secure. 

Ham  Hall,  near  the  inn,  is  the  great  place,  and  there 
is  a  pretty  little  church  within  a  stone's  throw  of  it. 
We  walked  over  on  Sunday  morning  and  saw  the  squire 
come  into  church  with  his  family  and  take  his  seat  among 
his  people,  for  I  take  it  most  of  the  congregation  were 
connected  with  the  hall.  The  parson,  no  doubt,  was  the 
appointee  of  the  squire,  and  we  tried  to  estimate  the  im- 
portance of  these  two  men  in  the  district,  their  duties  and 
influence — both  great — for  to  a  large  extent  the  moral 
as  well  as  the  material  well-being  of  a  community  in  rural 
England  depends  upon  the  character  of  the  hall  and  par- 
sonage. The  squire  was  Mr.  Hanbury,  M.P.,  who  cour- 
teously invited  our  party  to  visit  the  hall  after  service, 
and  to  stroll  as  we  pleased  through  his  grounds.    He  had 


1 88  Fotir-in-Hand  in  Britain. 

been  in  America,  and  knew  our  erratic  genius  and  brother 
iron-master  Abram  S.  Hewitt.  In  the  evening  we  re- 
ceived from  him  some  fine  photographs  of  the  hall  (a 
truly  noble  one),  which  we  prize  highly.  The  accom- 
panying note  was  even  more  gratifying,  for  it  said  that 
he  had  been  so  warmly  received  in  America  that  it  was 
always  a  pleasure  when  opportunity  offered  to  show 
Americans  such  attentions  as  might  be  in  his  power.  It 
is  ever  thus,  cold  indifference  between  the  two  English- 
speaking  branches  is  found  only  among  the  stay-at- 
homes.  The  man  who  knows  from  personal  experience 
the  leading  characteristics  of  the  people  upon  both  sides 
of  the  ferry  is  invariably  a  warm  and  sincere  friend. 
The  two  peoples  have  only  to  become  acquainted  to  be- 
come enthusiastic  over  each  other's  rare  qualities. 

This  is  a  sheep-grazing  district,  quite  hilly,  and  the 
rainfall  is  much  beyond  the  average ;  but  the  weather 
question  troubles  us  little  ;  the  Charioteers  carry  sun- 
shine within  and  without.  Our  afternoon  walk  was 
along  the  Dove,  which  we  followed  up  the  glen  between 
the  hills  for  several  miles,  finding  new  beauties  at  every 
turn.  Mr.  H.  has  the  stream  on  his  estate  reserved  for 
five  miles  for  his  own  fishing,  but  our  landlord  said  he 
was  very  generous  and  always  gave  a  gentleman  a  day's 
sport  when  properly  applied  for.  We  were  offered  free 
range  by  Mr.  H.,  a  privilege  which  Davie  and  I  hold  in 
reserve  for  a  future  day,  that  we  may  most  successfully 
conjure  the  shade  of  our  congenial  brother  of  the  angle; 


Izaak   Walton.  189 

"  fof  you  are  to  note,"  saith  he,  "  that  we  anglers  all  love 
one  another."  We  at  least  all  love  Izaak  Walton,  "  an 
excellent  angler  and  now  with  God."  Reading  the  in- 
genious defence  of  fishing  by  our  author,  "  an  honest 
man  and  a  most  excellent  fly-fisher,"  is  not  waste  time 
in  these  days  of  violent  anti-vivisectionists,  who  have 
seen  poor  hares  chased  down  for  sport  all  their  lives, 
and  their  Prince  shoot  pigeons  from  a  trap  without  a 
protest,  but  who  affect  to  feel  pity  for  a  cat  sacrificed 
upon  the  holy  altar  of  science.  Miserable  hypocrites, 
who  swallow  so  large  a  camel  and  strain  at  so  very 
small  a  gnat  !  It  shows  what  demoralization  is  brought 
about  in  good  people  by  rank  and  fashion  ;  one  rule  for 
the  Prince  who  disgraces  himself  by  cruel  sports,  another 
for  the  medical  student  who  exalts  himself  working  for 
the  good  of  his  race. 

But  to  quaint  Izaak's  defence ;  and  first  as  to  the  fish 
themselves. 

"  Nay,  the  increase  of  these  creatures  that  are  bred 
and  fed  in  water  is  not  only  more  and  more  miraculous, 
but  more  advantageous  to  man,  not  only  for  the  length- 
ening of  his  life,  but  for  the  preventing  of  sickness ;  for 
'tis  observed  by  the  most  learned  physicians  that  the 
casting  off  of  Lent  and  other  fish  days  hath  doubtless 
been  the  chief  cause  of  those  many  putrid,  shaking,  in- 
termitting agues  into  which  this  nation  of  ours  is  now 
more  subject  than  those  wiser  countries  which  feed  on 
herbs,  salads,  and  plenty  of  fish.     And  it  is  fit  to  re- 


I  go  Four-ill' Hand  in  Britain. 

member  that  Moses  (Levit.  ii:  9;  Deut.  14;  9)  ap. 
pointed  fish  to  be  the  chief  diet  for  the  best  common- 
wealth that  ever  yet  was ;  and  it  is  observable  not  only 
that  there  are  fish,  as  namely  the  whale,  three  times  as 
big  as  the  mighty  elephant  that  is  so  fierce  in  battle, 
but  that  the  mightiest  feasts  have  been  of  fish." 

Is  not  that  capital?  It  calls  to  mind  Josh  Billings* 
answer  to  his  correspondent  who  wrote  saying  that  he 
had  heard  many  times  that  a  fish  diet  was  most  favor- 
able for  increase  of  brain  power,  but  he  had  never  been 
able  to  find  out  the  best  kind  of  fish  for  the  purpose. 
Could  he  inform  him?  "In  your  case,"  replied  Josh, 
"  try  a  whale  or  two." 

Here  is  Izaak's  argument  for  the  lawfulness  of  fish- 
ing: 

"And  for  the  lawfulness  of  fishing  it  may  very  well 
be  maintained  by  our  Saviour's  bidding  St.  Peter  cast 
his  hook  into  the  water  and  catch  a  fish  for  money  to 
pay  tribute  to  Caesar.  And  it  is  observable  that  it  was 
our  Saviour's  will  that  four  fishermen  should  have  a 
priority  of  nomination  in  the  catalogue  of  his  twelve 
disciples  (Matt.  10:  2,  4,  13),  as  namely:  St.  Peter,  St. 
Andrew,  St.  James,  and  St.  John,  and  then  the  rest  in 
their  order.  And  it  is  yet  more  observable  that  when 
our  blessed  Saviour  went  up  into  the  mount  when  he 
left  the  rest  of  his  disciples  and  chose  only  three  to 
bear  him  company  at  his  transfiguration,  that  those 
three  were  all  fishermen ;  and  it  is  to  be  believed  that 


Fishing.  191 

all  the  other  apostles  after  they  betook  themselves  to 
follow  Christ,  betook  themselves  to  be  fishermen  too : 
for  it  is  certain  that  the  greater  number  of  them  were 
found  together  fishing  by  Jesus  after  his  resurrection, 
as  it  is  recorded  in  the  21st  chapter  of  St.  John's  Gos- 
pel, V.  3,  4.  This  was  the  employment  of  these  happy 
fishermen,  concerning  which  choice  some  have  made 
these  observations :  first  that  he  never  reproved  these 
for  their  employment  or  calling  as  he  did  the  scribes 
and  the  money-changers ;  and  secondly,  he  found  that 
the  hearts  of  such  men  were  fitted  for  contemplation 
and  quietness,  men  of  mild,  and  sweet,  and  peaceable 
spirits,  as  indeed  most  anglers  are ;  these  men  our 
blessed  Saviour,  who  is  observed  to  love  to  plant  grace 
in  good  natures,  though  indeed  nothing  be  too  hard  for 
him,  yet  these  men  he  chose  to  call  from  their  irreprov- 
able  employment  of  fishing  and  gave  them  grace  to  be 
his  disciples  and  to  follow  him  and  do  wonders.  I  say 
four  of  twelve." 

There  I  think  we  may  safely  rest  the  defence  of  our 
favorite  sport,  especially  upon  secondly  ;  for  it  is  all 
very  well  to  say  animals  must  be  slain  that  we  may  live, 
and  yet  it  does  not  give  one  a  high  idea  of  the  fineness 
of  the  man  who  chooses  the  occupation  of  a  butcher, 
and  is  happiest  when  he  is  killing  something.  Blood  ! 
lago,  blood  !  For  my  part,  while  recognizing  the  neces- 
sity that  the  sheep  should  bleat  for  the  lamb  slain  that  I 
may  feast,  I  don't  profess  to  see  that  the  arrangement 


192  Four-in-Hand  in  Britain. 

is  anything  to  rave  over  as  an  illustration  of  the  wisdom 
or  the  goodness  of  God.  Let  us  eat,  asking  no  ques- 
tions, but  trusting  that  some  day  we  shall  see  clearly 
that  all  is  well.  Meanwhile  I  give  up  coursing,  fox 
hunting,  and  pigeon  shooting  as  unworthy  sports,  and 
never  again  will  I  kill  a  deer  in  sport.  I  once  saw  the 
mild,  reproachful  eyes  of  one  turned  upon  me  as  it  lay, 
wounded,  as  much  as  to  say  :  "  I  am  so  sorry  it  was 
you  who  did  this."  So  was  I,  poor  innocent  thing.  It 
is  years  since  I  saw  that  look,  but  it  haunts  me  yet  at 
intervals.  It  is  one  of  the  many  things  I  have  done  for 
which  I  am  ever  sorry. 

Too  much  fishing  !  It  is  no  use  to  try  to  give  you 
the  good  things  of  Izaak  Walton,  for  it  is  with  him  as 
with  Shakespeare.  Two  volumes  of  his  "  beauties " 
handed  to  gentle  Elia.  "  This  is  all  very  well,  my 
friend,  but  where  are  the  other  five  volumes  ?  "  We 
must  get  out  of  Dovedale — that  is  clear.    Allojis  done  ! 

Our  stage  to-day  was  to  Chatsworth,  twenty-four 
miles,  where  our  Fourth  of  July  dinner  was  to  be  cele- 
brated. As  we  passed  Ham  Hall  we  stopped,  sounded 
our  horn,  and  gave  three  cheers  for  the  squire  who  had 
been  so  kind  to  his  "  American  cousins." 

Our  luncheon  was  beside  the  pretty  brook  at  Youl- 
greaves,  on  the  estate  of  the  Duke  of  Rutland,  and  a 
beautiful  trout-stream  it  is.  We  could  see  the  speckled 
beauties  darting  about,  and  were  quite  prepared  to  be- 
lieve the  wonderful  stories  told  us  of  the  basketfuls 


TJie  Burnie.  193 

taken  there  sometimes.     There  is  something  infectious  ) 
in  a  running  stream.     It  is  the  prettiest  thing  in  nature. 
Nothing  adds  so  much  to  our  midday  enjoyment  as  one 
of  these  babbling  brooks, 

"  Making  music  o  er  the  enamelled  stones, 
And  giving  a  gentle  kiss  to  every  sedge 
It  overtaketh  in  its  pilgrimage." 

If  there  be  "  sermons  in  stones,"  I  think  it  must  be 
when  the  pure  water  sings  as  it  rushes  over  them. 

The  Charioteers  demanded  that  I  should  repeat 
"  The  Burnie, "  a  gem  by  a  true  poet,  Ballantyne. 
Would  you,  my  gentle  reader,  like  also  to  know  it  ?  I 
think  you  would,  for  such  as  have  followed  me  so  far 
must  have  something  akin  to  me  and  surely  will  some- 
times like  what  I  like,  and  I  like  this  much : 

"  It  drappit  frae  a  gray  rock  upon  a  mossy  stane, 
An  doon  amang  the  green  grass  it  wandered  lang  alane. 
It  passed  the  broomie  knowe  beyond  the  hunter's  hill ; 
It  pleased  the  miller's  bairns  an  it  ca'd  their  faether's  mill. 

"  But  soon  anither  bed  it  had,  where  the  rocks  met  aboon, 
And  for  a  time  the  burnie  saw  neither  sun  nor  moon. 
But  the  licht  o'  heaven  cam'  again,  its  banks  grew  green  and  fair, 
And  many  a  bonnie  flower  in  its  season  blossomed  there  ; 

"  And  ither  burnies  joined  till  its  rippling  song  was  o'er. 
For  the  bum  became  a  river  ere  it  reached  the  ocean's  shore. 
And  the  wild  waves  rose  to  greet  it  wi'  their  ain  eerie  croon, 
Working  their  appointed  wark  and  never,  never  done. 
13 


194  Foii7'-in-Hand  in  Britain. 

"  Nae  sad  repinings  at  the  hardness  o'  their  lot, 
Nae  heart-burnings  at  what  anither  got ; 
The  good  or  ill,  the  licht  or  shade,  they  took  as  it  might  be, 
Sae  onward  ran  the  burnie  frae  the  gray  rock  to  the  sea." 

There's  a  moral  for  us !  There  is  always  peace  at  the 
end  if  we  do  our  appointed  work  and  leave  the  result 
with  the  Unknown.  Let  us,  then,  follow  Mrs.  Brown- 
ing, 

"  And  like  a  cheerful  traveller,  take  the  road, 

Singing  beside  the  hedge.     What  if  the  bread 
Be  bitter  in  thine  inn,  and  thou  unshod 
To  meet  the  flints  ? — At  least  it  may  be  said, 
'Because  the  way  is  short,  I  thank  thee,  God  ! ' " 

And  so  at  the  sea  the  burnie's  race  was  run  and  it 
found  peace.  Immensity  gives  peace  always.  It  is  so 
vain  to  strive  in  the  presence  of  the  ocean,  for  it  tells  of 
forces  irresistible.  It  obeys  its  own  laws,  caring  for 
nought : 

"  Libel  the  ocean  on  its  tawny  sands,  write  verses 
In  its  praise  ;  the  unmoved  sea  erases  both  alike. 
Alas  for  man  1  unless  his  fellows  can  behold  his  deeds, 
He  cares  not  to  be  great." 

Not  so,  O  poet,  when  man  stands  on  the  shore  and 
thinks,  for  then  he  feels  his  nothingness,  and  the  ap- 
plause of  his  fellows  is  valued  as  so  much  noise  merely, 
except  as  it  serves  as  proof  that  he  has  stirred  them 
for  the  right.  This  state  lasts  unless  he  lifts  his  eyes 
to  the  skies  above  the  waste,  and  renews  his  vows  to 
the  Goddess  of  Duty.     He  learns,  not  in  the  depths 


Daft  Gallants.  195 

nor  on  th?level  of  ocean's  surface,  but  from  higher  and 
beyond — that  life  is  worth  living,  then  he  takes  up  his 
task  and  goes  on,  saying 

"  And  whether  crowned  or  crownless  when  I  fall 

It  matters  not,  so  as  God's  work  is  done. 

I've  learned  to  prize  the  quiet  lightning  deed — 

Not  the  applauding  thunder  at  its  heels 

Which  men  call  fame.'' 

The  Queen  Dowager  and  Aggie  were  off  to  paidle  in 
the  burn  after  luncheon,  and  as  a  fitting  close  they  kilted 
their  petticoats  and  danced  a  highland  reel  on  the  green- 
sward, in  sight  of  the  company,  but  at  some  distance 
from  us.  They  were  just  wee  lassies  again,  and  to  be  a 
wee  lassie  at  seventy-one  is  a  triumph  indeed  ;  but,  as 
the  Queen  Dowager  says,  that  is  nothing.  She  intends 
to  be  as  daft  for  many  years  to  come,  for  my  grand- 
father was  far  older  when  he  alarmed  the  auld  wives  of 
the  village  on  Halloween  night,  sticking  his  false  face 
through  the  windows.  "  Oh !  "  said  one,  recovering 
from  her  fright,  "  it  is  just  that  daft  callant,  Andrew 
Carnegie  !  "  I  remember  one  day,  in  Dunfermline,  an 
old  man  in  the  nineties — a  picture  of  withered  eld,  a  few 
straight,  glistening  white  hairs  on  each  side  of  his  head, 
and  his  nose  and  chin  threatening  each  other — tottered 
across  the  room  to  where  I  was  sitting,  and  laying  his 
long,  skinny  hand  upon  my  head,  murmured  : 

"  An'  ye're  a  gran'son  o'  Andrew  Carnegie's !     Aye, 
maan,  I've  seen  the  day  when  your  grandfaether  an'  me 


196  Four-in-Hand  Z7z  Britain. 

could  have   hallooed  ony  reasonable  maan  oot    o'  his 
judgment." 

I  hope  to  be  a  daft  callant  at  seventy-one — as  daft  as 
we  all  were  that  day.  Indeed,  we  were  all  daft  enough 
while  coaching,  but  the  Queen  Dowager  really  ought  to 
have  been  restrained  a  little.  She  went  beyond  all 
bounds,  but  life  is  an  undoubted  success  if  you  can 
laugh  till  the  end  of  it. 

Let  me  try  to  give  an  idea  how  this  blessed  England 
is  crowded.  Here  is  a  signboard  we  stopped  at  to-day, 
to  make  sure  we  were  taking  the  right  way ;  for,  even 
with  the  Ordnance  map  upon  one's  knee,  strict  atten- 
tion is  required  or  you  will  be  liable  to  take  the  wrong 
turn. 

A  voice  from  the  General  Manager :  "  Perry,  stop  at 
the  post  and  let  us  be  sure."  ' 

"  Right,  sir." 

The  post  points  four  ways,  east,  west,  north,  and 
south. 

First  arm  reads  as  follows :   Tissington,  3  ;  Matlock 
Bath,  10;  Chesterfield,  21. 

Second  arm  :  Ashbourne,  3  ;  Derby,  16;  Kissington, 
19. 

Third  arm  :  Dovedale,  Okedon,  Ham. 

Fourth  arm:  New  Haven,  6;  Buxton,  17;  Bakewell, 
13  ;  Chatsworth,  16. 

All  this  the  guide-post  said  at  one  turn,  and  fortu- 
nate it  was  that  Chatsworth,  our  destination,  happened 


Tissington  Hall.  197 

to  be  upon  the  fourth  arm,  for  had  the  worthy  road- 
surveyors  not  deemed  it  necessary  to  extend  their  in- 
formation beyond  Bakewell,  you  see  we  might  as  well 
have  consulted  the  Book  of  Days. 

The  entrance  to  Tissington  estate  was  near  the  post, 
and  we  were  very  kindly  permitted  to  drive  through, 
which  it  was  said  would  save  several  miles  and  give  us 
a  view  of  another  English  hall.  We  managed,  how- 
ever, to  take  a  wrong  turn  somewhere,  and  added  some 
eight  miles  to  our  journey ;  so  much  the  better — the 
longer  the  route  the  happier  we  were. 

Every  English  hall  seems  to  have  some  special  feat- 
ures in  which  it  surpasses  all  others.  This  is  as  it 
should  be,  for  it  permits  every  fortunate  owner  to  love 
his  home  for  acknowledged  merits  of  its  own.  If  one 
has  the  nobler  terrace,  another  boasts  a  finer  lawn ; 
and  if  one  has  woods  and  a  rookery,  has  not  the  other 
the  winding  Nith  through  its  borders?  One  cannot 
have  the  best  of  everything,  even  upon  an  English  es- 
tate ;  neither  can  one  life  have  the  best  possible  of  every- 
thing, 

"  For  ever}'-  blade  o'  grass  keps  its  ain  drap  o'  dew." 

Let  us,  then,  be  thankful  for  our  special  mercies, 
and  may  all  our  ducks  be  swans,  as  friend  Edward  says 
mine  are. 

Have  you  never  had  your  friend  praise  his  wife  to  you 
in  moments  of  confidence,  when  you  have  been  fishing 


198  Four-m-Hand  in  Britain. 

for  a  week  together  ?  You  wonder  for  a  few  moments, 
as  you  recall  the  Betsey  or  Susan  he  extols ;  for,  if  the 
truth  is  to  be  spoken,  you  have,  as  it  were,  shed  tears 
for  him  when  you  thought  of  his  yoke.  Well,  that  is 
the  true  way :  let  him  make  her  a  swan,  even  if  she  is 
not  much  of  a  duck. 

We  stopped  at  Rowsley  for  Miss  F.,  who  was  to  come 
there  by  rail  from  Elmhurst  Hall.  She  brought  the  Lon- 
don Times,  which  gave  us  the  first  news  of  the  terrible 
catastrophe  in  Washington.  We  would  not  believe 
that  the  shot  was  to  prove  fatal.  It  did  not  seem  pos- 
sible that  President  Garfield's  career  was  to  end  in  such 
a  way ;  but,  do  what  we  could,  the  great  fear  would  not 
down,  and  we  reached  Chatsworth  much  depressed. 
Our  Fourth  of  July  was  a  sad  one,  and  the  intended 
celebration  was  given  up.  Fortunately,  the  news  be- 
came more  encouraging  day  after  day,  so  much  so  that 
the  coaching  party  ventured  to  telegraph  its  congratu- 
lations through  Secretary  Blaine,  and  it  was  not  until 
we  reached  New  York  that  we  knew  that  a  relapse  had 
occurred.  The  cloud  which  came  over  us,  therefore, 
had  its  silver  lining  in  the  promise  of  recovery  and  a 
return  to  greater  usefulness  than  ever. 

We  stopped  to  visit  Haddon  Hall  upon  our  way  to 
Chatsworth,  but  here  we  come  upon  tourists'  ground. 
Every  one  does  the  sights  of  the  neighborhood,  and 
readers  are  therefore  respectfully  referred  to  the  guide- 
books.    We  had  our  first  dusty  ride  to  day,  for  we  are 


Edensor.  1 99 

upon  limestone  roads,  but  the  discomfort  was  only  tri- 
fling ;  the  weather,  however,  was  really  warm,  and  our 
umbrellas  were  brought  into  use  as  sunshades. 

Haddon  Hall  is  a  fine  specimen  of  the  old  hall,  and 
Chatsworth  of  the  new,  except  that  the  latter  partakes 
far  too  much  of  the  show  feature.  It  is  no  doubt  amaz- 
ing to  the  crowds  of  Manchester  and  Birmingham 
workers  who  flock  here  for  a  holiday  and  who  have 
seen  nothing  finer,  but  to  us  who  have  seen  the  older 
gems  of  England,  Chatsworth  seems  much  too  modern 
for  our  fastidious  tastes.  I  speak  only  of  the  interior, 
of  course,  for  the  house  itself  and  its  surroundings  are 
grand ;  so  is  the  statuary  in  the  noble  hall  set  apart  for 
it — really  the  best  feature  in  the  house. 


Edensor,  July  4. 
Edensor  is  the  model  village  which  the  Duke  of 
Devonshire  has  built  adjoining  the  park — a  very  ap- 
propriate and  pretty  name,  for  it  is  perhaps  the  finest 
made-to-order  village  in  England.  Every  cottage  is 
surrounded  by  pretty  grounds  and  is  built  with  an  eye 
to  picturesqueness.  It  is  entered  by  a  handsome  lodge 
from  the  park,  and  the  road  at  its  upper  end  is  also 
closed  by  gates.  The  church,  erected  in  1870  from  de- 
signs of  Gilbert  Scott,  occupies  the  site  of  an  older  one. 
Opening  from  the  south  side  of  the  chancel  is  a  mortu- 
ary chapel  containing  monuments  of  the  Cavendish 
family.      In  the  churchyard  is  the  monument  of   Sir 


200  Four-in-Hmid  in  Britain. 

Joseph  Paxton,  builder  of  the  Crystal  Palace,  who  was 
formerly  head  gardener  at  Chatsworth. 

One  or  two  epitaphs  in  the  churchyard  are  worth 
noting.     The  following  is  dated  1787: 

"  I  was  like  grass,  cut  down  in  haste, 
For  fear  too  long  should  grow  ; 
I  hope  made  fit  in  heaven  to  sit, 
So  why  should  I  not  go  !  " 

To  be  sure,  why  not  ?  But  is  there  not  a  little  am- 
biguity in  the  "  too  long  should  grow  ?  " 

The  next  one,  dated  181 8,  seems  to  commemorate  the 
decease  of  a  plough-boy  who  was  rash  enough  to  leave 
his  proper  vocation  for  another — a  sad  illustration  of 
ne  siitor  ultra  crcpidam. 

"  When  he  that  day  with  th'  waggon  went, 
He  little  thought  his  glass  was  spent ; 
But  had  he  kept  his  Plough  in  Hand, 
He  might  have  longer  till'd  the  Land." 

One  could  not  expect  that  the  moral  inculcated  here 
would  find  favor  with  our  Americans.  How  could  the 
Mighty  Republic  ever  have  been  brought  to  its  present 
height  and  embraced  the  majority  of  all  English-speak- 
ing people  in  the  world,  if  her  sons  had  not  been  ambi- 
tious and  changed  from  one  occupation  to  another? 
*'  Stick  to  your  last  "  is  only  fit  for  monarchical  coun- 
tries, where  people  believe  in  classes.  This  young  man 
was  of  the  right  sort  and  should  have  a  verse  of  praise 


A  Modern  Phaethon.  201 

on  his  tombstone  instead  of  this  one  which  reflects 
upon  him.  One  of  the  party  declared  that  the  man 
must  have  been  the  best  workman  on  the  place,  and 
that  in  America  he  would  soon  have  owned  the  acres 
he  ploughed  instead  of  ploughing  here  for  some  landlord 
who  spent  the  resources  of  the  land  in  London  or 
on  the  continent.  The  poetess  of  the  party  was  com- 
missioned to  provide  a  substitute  for  the  obnoxious 
verse  which  should  applaud  the  act  of  this  modern 
Phaethon  who  would  try  to  drive  the  wagon,  after  he 
had  learned  all  he  could  about  ploughing.  We  were 
driving  homeward,  and  as  the  discussion  ended  in  the 
manner  aforesaid,  a  sweet  voice  broke  forth : 

"  I  winna  hae  the  laddie  that  drives  the  cart  and  ploo, 
Although  he  may  be  tender,  although  he  may  be  true ; 
But  I'll  hae  the  laddie  that  has  my  heart  betrayed, 
The  bonnie  shepherd  laddie  that  wears  the  crook  and  plaid." 

The  Charioteers  gave  it  the  swelling  chorus : 

"  For  he's  aye  true  to  his  lassie. 
Aye  true  to  his  lassie, 
Aye  true  to  me." 

Who  knows  but  the  refusal  of  some  rural  beauty  like 
her  of  the  song  to  have  the  laddie  that  "  ca'd  the  ploo  " 
may  have  stirred  our  unfortunate  youth  to  a  change  of 
occupation?  The  "sex  "is  at  the  bottom  of  most  of 
man's  misfortunes  (and  blessings  too,  let  it  be  noted) 


202  Four-in-Hand  in  Britain. 

and  why  not  of  this  lamentable  end  of  the  would-be 
wagoner ! 

The  day  was  so  warm,  and  our  next  stage  to  Buxton 
being  not  very  long  (twenty-six  miles),  we  decided  to 
spend  the  day  at  Edensor  and  take  an  evening  drive. 
We  met  here,  enjoying  their  honeymoon,  a  bride  and 
groom  who  were  well  known  to  our  Wolverhampton 
delegation,  and  how  do  you  suppose  they  were  travel- 
ling? Not  in  the  ordinary  mode,  I  assure  you.  I 
mention  this  incident  that  some  of  my  charming  young 
lady  friends,  who  give  me  so  much  pleasure  riding  with 
me,  may  make  a  note  of  it.  They  were  doing  beautiful 
Derbyshire  on  horseback !  It  was  delightful  to  see 
them  start  off  in  this  way.  I  became  interested  in  the 
bride,  who  must  be  no  ordinary  woman  to  think  of  this 
plan  ;  she  told  me  it  was  proving  a  wonderful  success ; 
and  the  happy  young  fellow  intimated  to  me,  in  a  kind 
of  confidential  way,  that  her  novel  idea  was  the  finest 
one  he  had  ever  been  a  party  to.  I  asked  him  if  he 
could  honestly  recommend  it,  and  he  boldly  said  he 
could.     We  must  think  over  this. 

The  evening  ride  was  one  of  our  pleasantest  experi- 
ences. How  entrancing  England  is  after  a  warm  day, 
when  everything  seems  to  rejoice  in  the  hours  of  peace, 
succeeding  the  sunshine  which  forces  growth  ! 

"  When  the  heart-sick  earth 
Turns  her  broad  back  upon  the  gaudy  sun, 


Buxton.  203 

And  stoops  her  weary  forehead  to  the  night 
To  struggle  with  her  sorrow  all  alone, 
The  moon,  that  patient  sufferer,  pale  with  pain, 
Presses  her  cold  lips  on  her  sister's  brow 
Till  she  is  calm." 

It  is  thus  the  earth  appeared  to  me  as  we  drove 
along ;  it  was  resting  after  its  labors  of  the  sunny  day. 
The  night  was  spent  at  Buxton,  that  famous  spa,  which 
has  been  the  resort  of  health-seekers  for  more  than  a 
thousand  years,  for  it  was  well  known  to  the  Romans 
and  probably  to  th?ir  predecessors.  We  saw  many  in- 
valids there  drinking  the  waters,  which  are  chiefly  chaly- 
beate ;  but  I  take  it,  as  is  usual  with  such  places,  the 
change  of  air  and  scene,  of  thought  and  effort,  and,  with 
most,  change  of  diet  and  freedom  from  excess,  count 
for  ninety-nine  points,  and  the  waters,  may  be,  for  one. 
But  it  is  of  no  consequence  what  does  it,  so  it  is  done, 
therefore  Buxton  continues  to  flourish. 

How  wise  a  physician  was  he  who  cured  the  Great 
Mogul  when  all  other  remedies  had  failed  !  The  mirac- 
ulous Tree  of  Life  was  upon  a  mountain  five  miles  from 
the  palace,  and  had  to  be  visited  daily,  in  the  early 
morning,  by  the  sufferer,  who  was  required  to  repeat  an 
incantation  under  its  boughs.  The  words  literally  trans- 
lated were  no  doubt  something  like  this :  "  Pray  away, 
you  old  fool !  but  it's  the  walk  that  does  it."  You  need 
not  laugh.  This  put  into  such  Latin  as  the  schools  de- 
light in  might  be  made  to  sound  frightful  to  the  Mogul 


204  Four-in-Hand  in  Britain. 

"  and  scare  him  good,"  as  the  negro  exhorters  deem  to 
be  essential  for  spiritual  recovery. 

Our  hotel  was  a  magnificent  "  limited  company  " 
affair.  The  start  next  morning  was  a  sight,  in  the  first 
real  downpour  in  dead  earnest  we  had  experienced. 
The  sky  was  dark — not  one  tiny  ray  of  light  to  give  us 
the  slightest  hope  of  change ;  the  barometer  low  and 
still  falling.  Just  such  a  morning  as  might  have  begun 
the  flood.  Clearly  we  were  in  for  it  ;  nevertheless,  at 
the  appointed  hour  the  Gay  Charioteers,  arrayed  in 
their  waterproofs,  with  the  good  hats  and  bonnets  all 
inside  the  coach,  passed  through  the  crowds  of  guests 
who  lined  the  hall,  wondering  at  these  mad  Americans, 
and  took  their  accustomed  seats  with  an  alacrity  that 
showed  they  considered  the  weather  "  perfectly  lovely." 

There  are  two  miles  of  steep  ascent  as  we  leave  the 
town,  and  a  few  of  us  decided  to  walk,  two  of  the  ladies 
among  the  number.  Those  who  started  upon  the 
coach  were  all  right ;  the  pedestrians,  however,  found 
themselves  far  from  dry  when  the  top  was  reached — 
feet  and  knees  were  wet.  By  noon  the  rain  had  ceased, 
and  we  stopped  at  a  little  inn,  where  fires  were  made, 
our  "  reserve  "  clothing  brought  into  use,  and  our  wet 
clothes  dried,  and  we  were  as  happy  as  larks  when  we 
sat  down  to  luncheon.  Is  not  that  a  wise  test  which 
Thackeray  puts  into  the  mouth  of  one  of  his  waiters: 
"  Oh,  I  knew  he  was  a  gentleman,  he  was  so  easily 
pleased  !  "    Well,  our  host  and  hostess  at  that  little  inn, 


Manchester.  205 

who  were  taken  so  by  surprise  when  a  four-in-hand 
stopped  at  the  door,  said  something  Kke  this  about  the 
American  ladies  and  gentlemen  as  they  left.  Why  not  ? 
Nothing  comes  amiss  to  the  Gay  Charioteers,  and  so  on 
we  go  to  Manchester,  getting  once  more  into  the  grim, 
smoky  regions  of  manufacturing  enterprise. 


Manchester,  July  6. 

Mine  host  of  The  Queen's  takes  the  prize  for  the  one 
best  "  swell  "  dinner  enjoyed  by  the  party  ;  but  then  the 
rain  and  the  moderate  luncheon  at  the  little  inn,  so  dif- 
ferent from  the  picnics  on  flowery  banks,  may  have 
given  it  a  relish.  The  Queen's  was  evidently  determined 
that  its  American  guests  should  leave  with  a  favorable 
impression,  and  so  they  did. 

There  was  time  to  visit  the  Town  Hall  and  walk  the 
principal  streets,  but  all  felt  an  invincible  repugnance 
to  large  towns.  It  was  not  these  we  had  come  to  see. 
Let  us  get  away  as  soon  as  possible,  and  out  once  more 
to  the  green  fields  ;  we  have  cotton-mills  and  warehouses 
and  dirty,  smoky  manufactories  enough  and  to  spare  at 
home.  The  morning  was  cloudy,  but  the  rain  held  off, 
and  we  left  the  hotel  amid  a  great  crowd.  The  police 
had  at  last  to  step  in  front  of  the  coach  and  clear  the 
way.  The  newspapers  had  announced  our  arrival  and 
intended  departure,  and  this  .brought  the  crowd  upon 
us.  Getting  into  and  out  of  large  cities  is  the  most  dif- 
ficult part  of  our  driving,  for  the  Ordnance  map  is  useless 


2o6  Four 'in-Hand  in  Britain. 

there — frequent  stoppages  and  inquiries  must  be  made ; 
but  so  far  we  have  been  fortunate,  and  our  horn  keeps 
opposing  vehicles  out  of  our  way  in  narrow  streets  and 
in   turning   corners.      We   were   bound    for   Andcrton 

Hall,  to   spend  the  night  with  our  friend   Mr.  B . 

Luncheon  was  taken  in  a  queer,  old-fashioned  inn, 
where  we  ate  from  bare  deal  tables,  and  drank  home- 
brewed ale  while  we  sang : 

"Let  gentlemen  fine  sit  down  to  their  wine, 

But  we  will  stick  to  our  beer,  we  will. 

For  we  will  stick  to  our  beer." 

The  number  and  variety  of  temperance  drinks  ad- 
vertised in  England  is  incredible.  Non-alcoholic  bev- 
erages meet  us  in  flaming  advertisements  at  every  step 
— from  nervous  tonics,  phosphated,  down  to  the  most 
startling  of  all,  which,  according  to  the  London  Echo  of 
June  2d,  the  Bishop  of  Exeter  advertised  when  he 
opened  a  coffee-house,  saying : 

"  It  looks  like  beer, 

It  smells  like  beer, 

It  tastes  like  beer, 

Yet  it  is  not  beer." 

Better  if  it  had  been,  your  reverence,  for  your  new 
beverage  was  probably  a  villanous  compound,  certain 
to  work  more  injury  than  genuine  beer.  In  this  country 
we  also  try  to  cheat  the  devil.  I  mean  our  unco  good 
people  try  it ;  but  we  call  it  "  bitters,"  and  the  worse 
the  whiskey  the  better  the  bitters. 


Anderton  Hall.  207 

Chorley,  July  7. 

As  we  approached  Anderton  Hall  the  English  and 
American  flags  were  seen  floating  from  the  archway, 
earnest  of  cordial  welcome.     We  were  quite  at  home 

immediately.     Mr.  and  Mrs.  B had  their  family  and 

friends  ready  to  greet  us.  The  dining-hall  was  deco- 
rated with  the  flags  of  the  old  and  the  new  lands,  grace- 
fully intertwined,  symbolizing  the  close  and  warm  friend- 
ship which  exists  between  them — never,  we  hope,  to  be 
again  disturbed.  We  had  a  long  walk  about  the  place 
and  on  the  banks  of  the  famous  Rivington  Reservoir, 
which  supphes  Manchester  with  water.  In  the  evening, 
after  dinner,  came  speeches.  The  evening  passed  de- 
lightfully.    Next  day   we   were   sorely   tempted.     Mr. 

M was  to  have  the  school-children  at  his  house  to 

be  entertained,  and  an  opportunity  to  see  a  novel  cele- 
bration was  afforded  us.  Our  host  and  hostess  were 
pressing  in  their  invitation  for  us  to  stay,  but  one  night 
of  fourteen  guests,  two  servants,  and  four  horses,  was 
surely  enough  ;  so  we  blew  our  horn,  and,  with  three 
ringing  cheers  for  Anderton  Hall  and  all  within  it,  drove 
out  of  its  hospitable  gates.     We  stopped  and  paid  our 

respects  to  Mr.  and  Mrs.  M as  we  passed  their  place, 

and  left  them  all  with  very  sincere  regret.  How  pleas- 
ant it  would  be  to  linger !  but  Inverness  lies  far  in  the 
north.  We  are  scarcely  one-third  of  our  way  thither 
and  the  time-table  stares  us  in  the  face.  We  do  not 
quite  "  fold  our  tents  like  the  Arabs  and  silently  steal 


2o8  Four-in-Hand  in  Britain, 

away,"  but  at  the  thrilling  call  of  the  horn  we  mount, 
and  with  cheers  and  God-speeds  take  our  departure  for 
other  scenes,  but  many  a  long  day  shall  it  be  ere  the 
faces  of  the  kind  people  we  leave  behind  fade  from  our 
memory. 

Chorley  has  been  one  of  the  seats  of  the  cotton 
manufacture  in  England  for  more  than  two  hundred 
years,  the  business  having  been  begun  there  about  the 
time  of  the  Restoration.  During  the  American  Revolu- 
tion it  was  visited,  like  other  places  in  Lancashire,  by 
mobs  who  broke  up  the  spinning  machines  because  they 
feared  that  they  would  deprive  the  poor  of  labor. 
Similar  mobs  once  destroyed  sewing-machines  in  France. 
What  a  commentary  upon  such  short-sightedness  has 
been  the  success  of  the  spinning-jenny  and  the  sewing- 
machine,  and  the  revolution  they  have  made  in  the 
manufacturing  industry  of  the  world  ! 


Preston,  July  8. 
Preston,  sixteen  miles  away,  is  our  destination, 
permitting  a  late  start  to  be  make.  Our  route  is 
still  through  a  manufacturing  district;  for  Manchester 
reaches  her  arms  far  out  in  every  direction.  We  pass 
now  and  then  a  company  of  show-people  with  their 
vans.  Sometimes  we  find  the  caravan  at  rest,  the  old, 
weary-looking  horses  nibbling  the  road-side  grass,  for 
the  irregularity  of  the  hedges  in  England  gives  fine 
little  plots  of  grass  along  the  hedge-rows,  and  nice  off- 


Strolling  Players.  209 

sets,  as  it  were,  in  the  road,  where  these  strolling 
players,  and  gypsies,  pedlers,  and  itinerant  venders  of 
all  sorts  of  queer  things,  can  call  a  halt  and  enjoy  them- 
selves. Every  van  appears  to  be  invested  with  an  air 
of  mystery,  for  was  not  our  Shakespeare, 

"  Th'  applause,  delight,  the  wonder  of  our  stage," 

a  strolling  player,  playing  his  part  in  barns  and  out- 
houses to  wondering  rustics?  There  are  such  pos- 
sibilities in  every  van  that  I  greet  the  sweet  little 
child  as  if  she  were  a  princess  in  disguise,  and  the  dark- 
eyed,  foreign-looking  boy  as  if  he  might  have  within 
him  the  soul  of  Buddha.  I  do  not  believe  that  any 
other  form  of  life  has  the  attractions  of  this  nomadic 
existence.  To  make  it  perfect  one  should  put  away 
enough  in  the  funds  as  a  reserve  to  be  drawn  upon  when 
he  could  not  make  the  pittance  necessary  to  feed  and 
clothe  him  and  buy  a  few  old  copies  of  good  books  as 
he  passed  through  a  village.  The  rule  might  be,  only 
when  hungry  shall  this  pocket-book  be  opened.  I  should 
have  one  other  contingency  in  order  to  be  perfectly 
happy — when  I  wanted  to  help  a  companion  in  distress. 
Elia  was  truly  not  very  far  from  it  when  he  said  that  if 
he  were  not  the  independent  gentleman  he  was  he 
would  be  a  beggar.  So,  if  I  were  not  the  independent 
gentleman  I  am,  I  would  be  a  member  of  a  strolling 
band,  such  as  we  often  pass  in  this  crowded  land,  and 
boast  that  Shakespeare  was  of  our  profession.  What 
14 


2 1  o  Four-i7t-Hand  in  Britain. 

are  the  Charioteers,  after  all,  in  their  happiest  dream, 
but  aristocratic  gypsies  ?  That  is  the  reason  we  are  so 
enraptured  with  the  life. 

But  in  Preston  there  is  no  scope  for  idealism.  It  is 
a  city  where  cotton  is  king.  No  town  can  be  much  less 
attractive ;  but,  mark  you,  a  few  steps  toward  the  river 
and  you  overlook  one  of  the  prettiest  parks  in  the  world. 
The  Ribble  runs  at  the  foot  of  the  sloping  hill  upon 
which  the  city  stands,  and  its  banks  have  been  converted 
into  the  pleasure-ground  I  speak  of,  in  which  the  toilers 
sport  in  thousands  and  gaze  upon  the  sweet  fields  of 
living  green  beyond  far  into  the  country.  It  is  not  so 
bad  when  the  entire  district  is  not  given  over  to  manu- 
factures, as  in  Birmingham  and  Manchester.  There  is 
the  cloud,  but  there  is  the  silver  lining  also. 

If  ever  the  people  of  England  and  America  are 
estranged  in  some  future  day,  which  God  forbid,  I  could 
wish  that  every  American  were  duly  informed  of  the 
conduct  of  the  people  of  Lancashire  during  the  rebellion, 
and,  indeed,  of  England,  Ireland,  and  Scotland  as  well, 
but  more  particularly  of  such  as  were  directly  dependent 
upon  the  supply  of  cotton  for  work,  as  was  the  case  here. 
The  troops  of  Pennsylvania  did  not  more  truly  fight  the 
battle  of  the  Union  at  Gettysburg,  than  did  the  thou- 
sands of  men  and  women  here  under  the  lead  of  Bright 
and  Cobden,  Potter,  Forster,  Storey,  and  others,  who 
held  the  enemies  of  Republicanism  in  check.  The  sacri- 
fices they  bore  could  never  have  been  borne  except  for 


Preston.  2 1 1 

a  cause  which  they  felt  to  be  their  own  and  held  as 
sacred.  The  ruling  classes  of  the  land  were  naturally 
against  the  Republic.  This  we  must  always  expect  till 
the  day  comes  in  Britain  (and  it  is  coming)  when  all  forms 
of  hereditary  privilege  are  swept  away  and  the  people 
are  equal  politically  one  with  another.  Nothing  could 
possibly  please  the  aristocracy  of  Britain,  or  any  aristoc- 
racy, more  than  the  failure  of  a  nation  which  ignores 
aristocracy  altogether.  That  is  obvious.  Human  nature 
would  not  be  what  it  is  were  this  not  so,  and  they  are 
not  blarriable  for  it,  but,  resisting  every  temptation,  the 
working  men  of  Britain — those  to  whom  a  Republic 
promises  so  much,  for  it  gives  all  men  political  equality 
— these  stood  firm  from  first  to  last,  the  staunch  and 
unflinching  friends  of  the  Republic.  Some  day,  perhaps, 
it  may  be  in  the  power  of  America  to  show  that  where 
the  interests  of  the  masses  of  Britain  are  concerned,  she 
has  not  forgotten  the  deep  debt  she  owes  to  them ;  no 
matter  what  the  provocation,  the  people  of  America 
must  remember  it  is  their  turn  to  forbear  for  the  sake, 
not  of  the  ruling  classes,  but  for  the  sake  of  the  masses 
of  Britain  who  were  and  are  her  devoted  friends, 

Preston,  that  is,  Priest's  Town,  for  it  received  its 
name  from  the  many  ecclesiastics  resident  there  as  early 
as  the  eighth  century,  was  once  the  principal  port  of 
Lancashire ;  and  when  Charles  I.  collected  ship-money 
it  was  assessed  for  nearly  twice  the  amount  of  Liver- 
pool. 


212  Four-in-Hand  in  Britain. 

This  was  the  Charles  of  whom  Lincoln  knew  so 
little.  Mr.  Blaine  tells  this  good  story  among  a  hun- 
dred, for  he  is  wonderful  in  this  line  :  When  Lincoln 
and  Seward  went  to  Fortress  Monroe  to  meet  Mr. 
Hunter,  who  represented  the  Confederate  Government, 
the  latter  was  exceedingly  anxious  to  get  the  President 
to  promise  that  if  the  rebels  would  lay  down  their  arms 
no  confiscation  of  property  (slaves,  of  course,  included) 
should  follow,  and  that  no  man  should  be  punished  for 
taking  part  in  the  rebellion.  Mr.  Hunter  concluded  by 
saying  that  this  would  only  be  following  the  course 
pursued  in  England  after  the  contest  with  King  Charles. 
"  Well,  Mr.  Hunter,"  said  that  sagacious  and  born 
leader  of  men,  Father  Abraham,  "  my  friend  Seward 
here  is  the  historian  of  my  Cabinet,  but  the  only  thing 
I  remember  about  King  Charles  is  that  Cromwell  cut  his 
head  off !  "  Lincoln  did  not  know  very  much,  you  see, 
but  then  he  knew  the  only  part  much  worth  knowing 
upon  the  subject,  which  is  one  of  the  differences  be- 
tween a  great  man  and  a  learned  one. 

It  was  at  this  celebrated  interview  that  Lincoln 
took  up  a  blank  sheet  of  writing-paper  and  said  to  the 
Confederates,  let  me  write  Emancipation  here  at  the  top 
and  you  can  fill  the  rest  of  the  page  with  your  condi- 
tions. 

Lincoln  seized  the  key  of  a  political  position  as  Napo- 
leon did  of  a  military  one,  and  never  relaxed  his  grasp. 
He  would  tell  stories  all  night  and  make  his  auditors 


Richelieu  and  Cromwell.  213 

shout  with  laughter,  but  whenever  the  real  business  was 
touched  upon,  he  made  his  opponents  feel  that  the 
natural  division  was  that  the  buzzard  should  fall  to 
them  while  his  long  bony  fingers  were  already  fast  upon 
the  turkey.  He  could  afford  to  joke  and  be  patient, 
for  he  saw  the  end  from  the  beginning,  and  had  faith  in 
the  Republic. 

See  what  the  whirligig  of  time  brings  round.  Near 
Preston,  in  the  valley  of  the  Ribble,  was  fought  in  1648 
the  battle  of  Preston  or  Ribblesdale,  in  which  Cromwell 
defeated  the  Scotch  army  under  the  Duke  of  Hamilton, 
and  the  English  army  under  Sir  Marmaduke  Lang- 
dale.  The  Royalists  were  driven  at  the  point  of  the 
bayonet  through  the  streets  of  Preston,  and,  though  they 
made  a  stand  at  Uttoxeter,  were  finally  overthrown 
and  both  generals  and  many  thousand  men  made  pris- 
oners. It  was  a  notable  struggle,  for  the  Royalists  had 
more  than  twice  as  many  men  as  the  Parliamentarians ; 
but  then  the  latter  had  the  great  Oliver,  who  knew  how 
and  when  to  strike  a  blow. 

Booth  may  not  be  great  in  anything,  as  some  think, 
but  I  do  not  know  his  equal  in  ''  Richelieu  ; "  and  in  one 
scene  in  particular  he  has  always  seemed  to  me  at  his 
very  best.  The  king  sits  with  his  new  minister,  Baradas, 
in  attendance  at  his  side.  Richelieu  reclines  upon  a  sofa 
exhausted  while  his  secretaries  "  deliver  up  the  papers 
of  a  realm."  A  secretary  is  on  his  knee  presenting 
papers.     He  says: 


214  Four-in-Hand  m  Britain. 

"  The  affairs  of  England,  Sire,  most  urgent.     Charles 
The  First  has  lost  a  battle  that  decides 
One  half  his  realm — craves  moneys,  Sire,  and  succor. 

King.     He  shall  have  both.     Eh,  Baradas  ? 

Baradas.  Yes,  Sire. 

Richelieu.    {Feebly,  but  iviih  great  distinctness^    My  liege^ 
Forgive  me — Charles's  cause  is  lost.     A  man. 
Named  Cromwell,  risen — a  great  man — " 

That  is  enough,  a  great  man  settles  things ;  a  small 
one  nibbles  away  at  petty  reforms,  although  he  knows 
nothing  is  settled  thereby,  and  that  the  question  is  only 
pushed  ahead  for  the  time  to  break  out  again  directly. 
English  politicians  are  mostly  nibblers,  though  Gladstone 
can  take  a  good  bite  when  put  to  it. 

Will  you  lay  "  violent  hands  upon  the  Lord's  anoint- 
ed ?  "  *'  I'll  anoint  ye  !  "  says  Cromwell,  and  then,  I  take 
it,  was  settled  for  the  future  the  "  divine  right  of  kings  " 
theory ;  for  since  that  time  these  curious  appendages 
of  a  free  state  have  been  kept  for  show,  and  we  hear 
nothing  more  of  the  "  divinity  which  doth  hedge  a  king." 
Some  one  of  the  party  remarked  that  we  had  not  seen 
a  statue  or  even  a  picture  of  England's  great  Protector. 
I  told  them  a  wise  man  once  said  that  the  reason  Crom- 
well's statue  was  not  put  among  those  of  the  other 
rulers  of  England  at  Westminster  was  because  he  would 
dwarf  them.  But  his  day  is  coming.  We  shall  have 
him  there  in  his  proper  place  by  and  by,  and  how  small 
hereditary  rulers  will  seem  beside  him ! 

We  noticed  in  the  Pall  Mall  Gazette  a  curious  proof 


Cromwell  at  Drury  Lane.  215 

of  Cromwell's  place  in  the  hearts  of  the  people  of  Eng- 
land. The  pantomime  at  Drury  Lane  had  a  scene  in 
which  all  the  Kings  and  Queens  of  England  marched 
across  the  stage  in  gorgeous  procession.  Each  was 
greeted  with  cheers  or  hisses  or  with  more  or  less  cordial 
greeting  as  the  audience  thought  deserved.  When  Crom- 
well appeared  in  the  line  a  few  hisses  were  answered  by 
round  after  round  of  cheering,  and  the  Lord  Protector 
nightly  received  a  popular  ovation  far  beyond  that  ac- 
corded to  any  other  ruler.  That  the  manager  of  the 
leading  theatre  in  London  should  have  thought  it  ad- 
missible to  introduce  the  Republican  among  the  Kings 
is  a  straw  which  shows  a  healthy  breeze  blowing  in  the 
political  currents  of  English  life. 

He  was  truly  a  host  in  himself ;  besides,  his  men  were 
fighting  for  something  better  than  had  been,  the  others 
only  for  maintaining  what  had  before  existed.  It  is  this 
which  drives  Conservatives  to  the  wall  when  radicalism 
moves  in  earnest  upon  them.  The  aspirations  of  the 
race  for  further  and  higher  development  nerve  the  arm 
which  strikes  down  the  barriers  of  an  ignorant  past. 
Who  could  battle  enthusiastically  only  for  such  incom- 
plete and  unsatisfactory  development  as  we  have  already 
reached  and  pronounce  it  good  !  The  prize  is  not  worth 
it.  What  the  race  is  capable  of  achieving  in  the  broad 
future  is  the  mainspring  of  our  assault  upon  every  abuse 
or  privilege,  the  heritage  of  the  past  which  disgraces 
the  present. 


2i6  Four-in-Hand  m  Britain. 

At  Preston  many  of  us  received  letters  from  home. 
Harry's  funny  one  from  his  little  daughter  Emma  (a 
namesake  of  our  Emma  of  the  Charioteers)  gave  us  a 
good  laugh,  I  remember  there  was  one  announcement 
particularly  noteworthy  :  "  Ninety  dollars  gone  to  smash, 
papa.  The  pony's  dead."  There  is  your  future  special 
correspondent  for  you. 

At  eleven  o'clock  this  evening  the  party  received  a 
notable  addition — Andrew  M.,  my  old  schoolfellow  and 
"  the  Maester's  son,"  arrived  from  Dunfermline.  He  was 
received  at  the  station  by  a  committee  especially  ap- 
pointed for  the  purpose,  and  shortly  thereafter  duly 
initiated  into  all  the  rites  and  mysteries  of  the  Gay 
Charioteers.  He  was  required,  late  as  it  was,  to  sing 
two  Scotch  songs  to  determine  his  eligibility.  There 
may  be  some  man  who  can  sing  "  Oh !  why  left  I  my 
hame  ?  " — my  favorite  at  present,  and  written  by  Gilfil- 
lan  in  Dunfermline,  note  that — or  "  When  the  kye  come 
hame,"  better  than  our  new  member,  but  none  of  us  has 
been  so  fortunate  as  to  meet  him,  nor  have  I  ever  heard 
one  who  could  sing  them  as  well  for  me  ;  but  there  may 
be  a  touch  of  Auld  Lang  Syne  in  his  voice  which  strikes 
\  chords  in  my  heart  and  sets  them  vibrating.  There  are 
'^  subtle  sympathies  lurking  in  the  core  of  man's  nature, 
responsive  to  no  law  but  their  own,  but  I  notice  all  press 
Andrew  to  sing,  and  keep  very  quiet  when  he  does.  We 
had  the  pleasure  of  seeing  the  new  member  get  just  as 
daft  as  the  rest  of  us  next  day,  gathering  wild  flowers 


Scotch  Songs,  217 

along  the  hedgerows,  the  glittering,  towering  coach 
coming  up  to  us.  He  had  time  to  say :  "  Man,  this 
canna  be  vera  bad  for  us  !  "  No,  not  very  ;  only  we  did 
not  know  then  how  bad  it  would  be  for  us  when,  after  the 
dream-like  existence  had  passed  and  we  were  back  once 
more  to  our  labors  of  this  work-a-day  world,  thrown  out 
as  it  were  from  a  paradise  and  falling  as  Milton's  Satan 
fell ;  but  it's  better  to  have  loved  and  lost  than  never 
to  have  loved  at  all. 

Fortunately  we  did  not  know  then  that  for  months 
after  our  fall  there  were  to  be  only  sad  memories  of  days 
of  happiness  so  unalloyed  that  they  can  never  again  be 
equalled.  It  is  not  at  all  desirable  to  be  honestly  per- 
suaded that  you  never  again  can  have  seven  weeks  of 
such  days  as  made  us  happy,  innocent  children ;  but  we 
shall  see.  There  are  as  good  fish  in  the  sea  as  were  ever 
caught,  and  though  it  is  true  they  do  not  seem  to  bite 
as  they  used  to,  may  be  we  can  venture  to  try  coaching 
again.  The  height  of  our  musical  season  was  during 
this  part  of  the  journey.  Miss  R.,  Miss  J.,  and  Mrs. 
K.  are  all  musical  and  blessed  with  the  power  of  song. 
Messrs.  M.,  McC.  and  K.  differ  only  as  one  star  differs 
from  another  in  glory ;  and  there  was  another  gentle- 
man, who  shall  be  nameless,  who  sang  without  being 
asked,  and  who,  as  usual,  was  not  encored  by  his  unap- 
preciative  audience,  his  being  evidently  the  music  of  the 
future. 

Davie  deserves  notice.     He  sang  a  beautiful  Scotch 


2i8  Fotir-in-Hand  in  Britain. 

song  to-day,  "  Cowden  Knowes,"  and  when  he  was  done 
Andrew  immediately  asked :  "  Whaur  did  ye  get  that  ? 
Ye  didna  get  that  out  of  a  book!  " 

Right,  my  boy.  It  was  at  his  father's  knee.  Who 
ever  learnt  a  Scotch  song  out  of  books  ?  They  are  pos- 
sessed of  souls,  these  songs,  to  be  caught  only  from 
living  lips.  The  bodies  alone  are  to  be  found  within 
the  bars. 

Passing  Bolton  we  saw  the  first  bowling  green,  sure 
proof  that  we  are  getting  northward,  where  every  village 
has  its  green  and  its  bowling  club,  the  ancient  game  of 
bowls  still  offering  to  rural  England  attractions  para- 
mount to  more  modern  sports. 

We  lunched  at  Grisdalebrook,  ten  miles  from  Lan- 
caster, which  was  to  be  our  stopping-place.  To-day's 
drive  was  made  fragrant  by  the  scent  of  new-mown  hay, 
and  we  passed  many  bands  of  merry  haymakers.  When 
Dickens  pronounced  no  smell  the  best  smell,  he  must 
have  momentarily  forgotten  that  which  so  delighted  us. 
I  do  give  up  most  of  the  so-called  fine  smells,  but  there 
are  a  few  better  than  Dickens's  best,  and  surely  that  of  to- 
day is  of  them.  We  went  into  a  Catholic  church  in  one 
of  our  strolls — for  let  it  be  remembered  many  a  glorious 
tramp  we  had — and  the  coach  was  rarely  honored  with 
all  the  party  when  a  chance  to  walk  presented  itself. 
The  requests  posted  upon  the  door  of  this  church  seemed 
to  carry  one  back  a  long  way : 

"  Of  your  charity  pray  for  the  soul  of  Rebecca  Robinson,  who 


The  Roman  Church,  219 

died  June  7th,  1880,  fortified  with  rites  of  Holy  Church,  on  whose 
soul  sweet  Jesus  have  mercy.     R.  I.  P," 

There  were  several  such  requests.  What  a  power 
that  church  has  been  and  is,  only  one  who  has  travelled 
the  world  round  can  know.  In  England  here  it  is  but  a 
sickly,  foreign  plant,  so  fearfully  foreign.  We  can  all 
repeat  Buddha's  words  and  apply  them  to  it,  but  they 
should  not  stop  here  : 

"  And  third  came  she  who  gives  dark  creeds  their  power, 
Silabbat-paramasa,  sorceress. 
Draped  fair  in  many  lands  as  lowly  Faith, 
But  ever  juggling  souls  with  rites  and  prayers  ; 
The  keeper  of  those  keys  which  lock  up  Hells 
And  open  Heavens.     '  Wilt  thou  dare  ? '  she  said, 
'  Put  by  our  sacred  books,  dethrone  our  gods. 
Unpeople  all  the  temples,  shaking  down 
That  law  which  feeds  the  priests  and  props  the  realm  ? ' 
But  Buddha  answered,  '  What  thou  bidd'st  me  keep 
Is  form  which  passes,  but  the  free  truth  stands  ; 
Get  thee  unto  thy  darkness.'  " 

Say  what  we  will  about  the  Roman  Church,  there  is 
something  sublime  in  her  attitude.  Neither  sense  nor 
reason  make  the  slightest  impression  upon  her ;  for  she 
stands  confident  in  her  power  and  her  right  to  save,  de- 
nying the  power  to  others,  regardless  of  the  conclusions 
of  science  and  the  fuller  knowledge  of  to-day.  This 
gives  her  the  hold  she  obtains  among  the  ignorant 
masses,  whether  at  home  or  abroad. 


2  20  Four-in-Hand  in  Britain. 

The  world-wide  influence  of  this  faith  can  never  be 
rightly  estimated  until  one  has  visited  the  missions 
throughout  India,  China,  and  Japan.  The  converts  are 
generally  to  the  Catholic  church.  To-day  on  the  coach 
in  speaking  of  this,  I  told  an  inquirer  that  in  my  opinion 
one,  if  not  the  chief,  obstacle  to  the  success  of  missions 
to  the  heathen,  lies  in  the  differences  between  the  Chris- 
tian sects,  and  I  illustrated  it  by  a  story  : 

One  day  in  China  I  asked  our  guide  Ah  Cum,  a  gen- 
tleman and  a  scholar,  and  a  man  of  excellent  mind,  why 
he  did  not  embrace  Christianity.  His  eyes  twinkled 
as  he  replied  :  "  Where  goee,  eh  ?  Goee  Bishopee  ? 
(pointing  to  the  Cathedral).  He  say,  allee  rightee.  Go 
there  ?  (pointing  to  the  English  church).  Bishop  say 
damme!  Goee  Hopper?  (the  American  Presbyterian 
Missionary).  He  sayee  Bishop  churchee  no  goodee — 
hellee  firee.     What  I  do'ee  ?  eh  !  " 

"  Stay  where  you  are,  you  rogue."  Confound  the 
fellow  !  I  did  not  expect  to  be  picked  up  in  that  man- 
ner. 

Ah  Cum  was  severely  let  alone  after  that  upon  the 
.subject  of  his  conversion.  I  have  no  hope  of  him  until 
we  agree  among  ourselves  exactly  what  we  wish  the 
heathen  to  accept.  It  is  in  vain  we  preach  one  God 
and  five  different  religions ;  there  must  be  only  one 
true  religion  as  well.  Ah  Cum's  defence  of  the  worship 
of  ancestors  was  clever.  It  ran  thus:  All  religions 
acknowledge  the  Creator  of  life  as  the  true  object  of 


Lancaster.  221 

worship.  Taking  hold  of  his  watch  chain  he  began  at 
the  first  Knk  and  said:  "  I  worshipee  my  parents  (pass- 
ing one  Hnk),  my  parents  worshipee  their  parents " 
(passing  another  hnk,  and  so  on  till  he  had  passed  quite 
a  number)  ;  "  by  by  come  to  firstee,  lifee  Goddee.  You 
jump  up  sky  all  oncee,  miss  him,  may  be." 

He  thought  he  had  a  sure  thing  passing  up  link  by 
link  to  the  end.  We  need  clever  missionaries  to  hold 
their  own  with  these  Celestials. 


Lancaster,  July  9,  10. 
We  had  done  our  twenty-nine  miles  from  Preston 
and  reached  Lancaster  in  good  season.  There  we  had 
a  treat.  The  High  Sheriff  for  the  county  had  just  been 
elected  and  made  his  entry  into  town  according  to  im- 
memorial custom.  He  represents  royalty  in  the  county 
during  his  term  of  ofRce,  which  I  believe  is  only  two 
years.  It  costs  the  recipient  of  the  honor  a  large  sum 
to  maintain  the  dignities  of  the  ofifice,  for  its  emolu- 
ments are  nil.  The  sheriff  was  staying  at  our  hotel,  a 
very  fine  one.  The  County.  He  is  wakened  every  morn- 
ing by  two  heralds  richly  dressed  in  the  olden  style  and 
bearing  halberds.  They  stand  in  front  of  the  hotel  and 
sound  their  bugles  to  call  His  Highness  forth.  It  is  the 
Lord  Mayor's  procession  on  a  small  scale.  Nobody 
laughs  outright  at  the  curious  mixture  of  feudal  cus- 
toms with  this  age's  requirements,  however  much  every- 
body may  laugh  in  his  sleeve ;  but  England  will  have 


2  22  Four-iii-Hand  in  Britain. 

lost  some  picturesque  features  when  all  the  shams  are 
gone.  If  mankind  were  not  greatly  influenced  by 
forms,  I  could  wish  that  just  enough  of  the  "  good  old 
times  " — which  were  very  bad  times  indeed — could  be 
preserved,  if  only  to  prove  how  far  we  have  outgrown 
them;  but  every  form  and  every  sham,  from  royalty 
downward,  carries  its  good  or  evil  with  it.  That  not 
only  the  substance  should  be  right,  but  that  the  form 
should  correspond  truly  to  it,  is  important  if  we  are  to 
be  honest ;  so  I  reconcile  myself  to  the  passing  away  of 
all  forms  which  no  longer  honestly  represent  what  they 
imply. 

Lancaster  is  a  beautiful  place  and  noted  for  its  ad- 
mirable charitable  institutions.  The  lunatic  asylum  and 
an  orphanage  attracted  our  special  attention.  These 
and  kindred  institutions  abound  in  England,  and  are 
ably  conducted.  Rich  Englishmen  do  not  leave  their 
fortunes  for  uses  of  this  kind  as  often  as  Americans  do. 
The  ambition  to  found  a  family,  and  the  maintenance  of 
an  aristocratic  class  by  means  of  primogeniture  and 
entail,  tend  to  divert  fortunes  from  this  nobler  path  into 
the  meaner  end  of  elevating  a  name  in  the  social  scale  ; 
but  the  general  public  in  Britain  is  most  generous,  and 
immense  sums  in  the  aggregate  are  annually  collected 
for  charitable  institutions.  It  is  common  for  a  class  to 
support  its  own  unfortunates.  The  commercial  travel- 
lers, for  instance,  have  an  extensive  home  near  London 
for  children  of  their  fellows  and  for  members  in  their 


A  Noble  Charity.  223 

old  age,  and  there  is  scarcely  a  branch  of  industry  which 
does  not  follow  this  example. 

One  cannot  travel  far  without  seeing  that  the  British 
are  a  people  most  mindful  of  the  unfortunate.  These 
pretty  homes  of  refuge  and  of  rest  we  see  scattered 
everywhere  over  the  land,  nor  are  they  the  least  glori- 
ous of  the  many  monuments  of  England's  true  worth. 

A  Mr.  Ripley,  of  Lancaster,  left  his  fortune  for  an 
orphanage,  open  to  all  orphan  children  born  within  fif- 
teen miles  of  Lancaster.  Three  hundred  are  now  pro- 
vided for,  but  so  rapidly  has  the  fund  grown  that  it  has 
been  found  practicable  to  extend  the  boundaries  of  its 
beneficence,  and  children  from  distant  Liverpool  are  now 
admitted.  Bravo  !  Mr.  Ripley.  What  is  an  earldom 
for  your  eldest  son  to  this  !  His  father's  name  will 
carry  him  farther  with  the  best,  and  he  should  be 
prouder  of  it.  Show  me  the  earl  who  has  done  as  much 
for  his  neighborhood ! 

Lancaster  Castle  is  a  noble  one.  Here  John  o' 
Gaunt  hundreds  of  years  ago  put  his  finger  upon  the 
dire  root  of  England's  woes,  as  far  as  the  land  goes : 

"This  dear,  dear  land, 
Dear  for  her  reputation  through  the  world, 
Is  now  leas' d  out," 

There  you  have  it — this  England  is  leased  out.  The 
soil  is  not  worked  by  its  owners,  and  never,  till  England 
changes  its  practice  and  can  boast  a  peasant  proprietary 


224  Four-in-Hand  in  Britain. 

working  its  own  acres  in  small  farms,  untrammelled  by 
vicious  laws,  will  she  know  what  miracles  can  be  wrought 
by  those  who  call  each  little  spot  their  own — their 
home.  Englishmen  are  slow  to  change,  but  the  day 
is  not  far  distant  when  ownership  of  land  will  depend 
upon  residence  on  it  and  its  proper  cultivation.  Den- 
mark's example  will  be  followed.  Cumulative  taxes  will 
be  levied  upon  each  number  of  acres  beyond  a  minimum 
number,  and  large  proprietors  taxed  out  of  existence  as 
they  have  been  in  Denmark,  to  the  country's  good  and 
nobody's  injury.  We  tax  a  man  who  keeps  racing-horses 
or  who  sports  armorial  bearings.  It  is  the  same  princi- 
ple :  we  can  tax  a  man  who  keeps  a  larger  amount  of 
land  than  he  can  work  to  the  State's  advantage.  The 
rights  of  property  are  all  very  well  in  their  place,  but 
the  rights  of  man  and  the  good  of  the  commonwealth 
are  far  beyond  them.  I  wish  England  would  just  let 
me  arrange  that  little  land  matter  for  her.  It  would 
save  her  a  generation  of  agitation. 

Lancaster  was  an  ancient  Roman  station,  as  is  shown 
by  its  name — Lune  or  Lone  Castrum,  the  castle  or 
camp  on  the  Lune  or  Lone,  the  little  river  which 
washes  its  plain.  For  what  saith  Spencer  in  the  Faery 
Queen : 

" After  came  the  strong  shallow  Lone 

That  to  old  Lancaster  its  name  doth  lend." 

The  memory  of   man   goeth  not   back  to  the  time 


Lancaster  Castle.  225 

when  the  first  castle  was  built.  Indeed  it  is  of  little 
consequence  now,  for  it  was  almost  entirely  razed  by 
the  Scots  in  the  fourteenth  centurj^. 

The  present  noble  structure,  or  rather  the  older  part 
of  it,  is  the  work  of  John  O'Gaunt,  that  son  of  a  king 
who  was  almost  a  king  himself,  and  who  became  the 
father  of  kings.  To  him  is  due  the  magnificent  Gateway 
Tower,  flanked  by  two  octagonal  turrets  sixty-six  feet 
high,  surrounded  by  watch-towers.  Around  the  towers 
and  across  the  curtain,  perforated  by  the  gate,  which 
connects  them,  are  overhanging  battlements  with  ver- 
tical openings  for  pouring  down  molten  metal  or  hot 
water  on  the  heads  of  assailants.  In  a  niche  in  front 
is  a  full-length  statue  of  John  O'Gaunt  in  the  costume 
of  his  day,  placed  there  in  1822.  The  sole  remaining 
turret  of  the  Lungess  Tower,  eighty-eight  feet  high,  is 
called  John  O'Gaunt's  Chair.  It  commands  a  view  of 
great  extent,  comprising  the  hills  of  Cumberland  and 
Westmoreland  and  nearly  the  whole  extent  of  the 
valley  of  the  Lune,  with  the  Irish  Sea  in  the  distance. 

Some  moralists,  who  believe  that  men  and  times  are 
degenerate,  may  lament  that  this  grand  old  castle — the 
ancient  residence  of  nobles — should  now  be  the  abode 
of  criminals ;  but,  while  equally  desirous  that  its  archi- 
tectural wonders  may  be  preserved,  I  am  not  inclined 
to  admit  that  the  thieves  and  cutthroats  who  now  have 
their  homes  within  its  walls  through  the  puissance  of 
the  law  are  any  worse  morally  than  were  many  of  the 
15 


226  Four-in-Hand  in  Britain. 

noble  barons  who  robbed  and  ravished  in  the  good 
old  times  when  the  question  of  might  versus  right  was 
always  settled  in  favor  of  the  plaintiff.  Some  of  them 
indeed  more  richly  merited  a  halter  than  the  comfort- 
able seclusion  from  the  outer  world  accorded  to  their 
modern  representatives.  Even  good  old  John  O'Gaunt 
himself  was  not  so  virtuous  that  he  could  shy  moral 
stones  at  his  neighbors. 

Sunday  v/as  spent  in  Lancaster,  and  much  enjoyed. 
The  service  in  church  was  fine  and  the  afternoon's  ex- 
cursion to  the  country  delightful.  Here  Miss  A.  B. 
and  Mr.  D.  left  us  after  receiving  the  blessing  of  the 
party.  Miss  G.  and  Miss  D.,  who  were  to  join  us  here, 
failed  us,  but  we  fortunately  found  them  waiting  at 
Kendall.  We  started  for  that  town,  twenty-two  miles 
distant,  on  Monday  morning.  It  is  the  entrance  to  the 
celebrated  Lake  District.  Messrs.  T.  and  M.,  whom 
we  had  met  at  Anderton  Hall,  passed  us  on  Satur- 
day, before  we  reached  Lancaster,  on  bicycles.  They 
were  out  for  a  run  of  a  hundred  and  five  miles  that 
day,  to  visit  friends  beyond  that  city.  We  meet  such 
travellers  often.  Their  club  now  numbers  seven  thou- 
sand members.  For  an  annual  payment  of  half  a  crown 
(62  cents),  a  member  has  lists  of  routes  and  hotels  sent 
him  for  any  desired  district,  with  the  advantage  of  re- 
duced charges.  It  is  nothing  to  do  a  hundred  miles 
per  day ;  many  have  ridden  from  London  to  Bath, 
two  hundred  miles,  within  the  twenty-four  hours. 


Bicycles.  227 

The  country  swarms  with  these  fellows.  I  saw  fifteen 
hundred  in  Bushy  Park  one  day  at  a  meet.  I  think 
seventy-five  clubs  were  there,  each  in  a  different  uni- 
form. Bicycles  are  also  growing  in  use  for  practical 
purposes,  and  many  post-routes  in  the  country  are 
served  by  men  who  use  these  machines.  But  it  takes 
roads  like  the  English,  and  a  level  country,  to  do  much 
with  them. 

Our  evening  was  spent  in  visiting  the  ruined  castle 
and  admiring  a  pretty  Japanese  kind  of  garden,  so  much 
in  so  little  space,  which  attracted  our  attention  as  we 
passed.  The  owner,  Mr.  T.,  a  solicitor,  kindly  invited 
us  in,  and  afterward  showed  us  his  house.  We  are 
always  receiving  kindnesses  from  all  sorts  and  conditions 
of  men. 

Next  day,  July  12th,  our  objective  point  was  Grass- 
mere,  eighteen  miles  away.  Such  a  lovely  morning ! 
but,  indeed,  we  are  favored  beyond  measure  with  superb 
weather  all  the  time.  This  stage  in  our  progress  intro- 
duced us  to  the  scenery  of  the  lakes,  and  we  all  felt 
that  it  deserved  its  Wordsworth ;  but  were  we  ever  to  let 
loose  and  enter  the  descriptive,  where  would  it  lead  ? 
This  is  the  rock  upon  which  many  a  fair  venture  in 
story-telling  has  suffered  shipwreck.  Great  mountains 
always  carry  one  upward,  but  those  of  the  Lake 
District  are  not  great,  nor  is  there  anything  great  in 
the  region.  All  is  very  sweet  and  pleasing  and  has 
its  own  peculiar  charm,  like  the  school  of  Lake  Poets. 


228  Four-in-Hand  in  Britain. 

At  Bowness,  about  midway  of  the  lake,  we  left  the 
coach  for  the  first  time  for  any  other  kind  of  convey- 
ance. After  enjoying  a  rare  treat  in  a  sail  up  and  down 
the  lake  in  the  pretty  steamer,  we  rejoined  the  coach  at 
Ambleside,  where  we  had  ordered  it  to  await  us. 

Passing  Storr's  Hall,  the  mind  wandered  back  to  the 
meeting  there  of  Wordsworth,  Southey,  Coleridge,  Chris- 
topher  North,  and  greater  than  all,  our  own  Walter 
Scott ;  and  surely  not  in  all  the  earth  could  a  fitter  spot 
than  this  have  been  found  for  their  gathering.  How 
much  the  world  of  to-day  owes  to  the  few  names  who 
spent  days  together  here !  Not  often  can  you  say  of 
one  little  house,  "  Here  had  we  our  country's  honor 
roofed  "  to  so  great  an  extent  as  it  would  be  quite  al- 
lowable to  say  in  this  instance.  But  behold  the  vanity  of 
human  aspirations  !  If  there  was  one  wish  dearer  than 
another  to  the  greatest  of  these  men,  it  was  that  Ab- 
botsford  should  remain  from  generation  to  generation 
the  home  of  his  race.  This  very  hour,  while  sailing  on 
the  lake,  a  newspaper  Avas  handed  to  me,  and  my  eye 
caught  the  advertisement,  "  Abbotsford  to  let,"  fol- 
lowed by  the  stereotyped  description,  so  many  recep- 
tion-rooms, nursery,  outbuildings,  and  offices,  suitable 
for  a  gentleman's  establishment.  Shade  of  the  mighty 
Wizard  of  the  North,  has  it  come  to  this!  Oh,  the  pity 
of  it !  the  pity  of  it!  Well  for  your  fame  that  you 
built  for  mankind  other  than  this  stately  home  of  your 
pride.     It  will   crumble  and  pass  utterly  away  long  be- 


Abbotsford  to  Let !  229 

fore  the  humble  cot  of  Jeannie  Deans  shall  fade  from 
the  memory  of  man.  The  time  will  come  when  the 
largest  son  of  time,  who  wandering  sang  to  a  listening 
world,  shall  be  as  much  forgot 

"  As  the  canoe  that  crossed  a  lonely  lake 
A  thousand  years  ago." 

But  even  the  New  Zealander  who  stands  on  the  ruins 
of  London  Bridge  will  know  something  of  Walter  Scott 
if  he  knows  much  worth  knowing.  "Abbotsford  to 
let !"  This  to  come  to  us  just  as  we  were  passing  one 
of  the  haunts  of  Scott,  than  whom  no  greater  Scot  ever 
lived  save  one.  Fortunately  no  such  blow  is  possible  for 
the  memory  of  Burns. 

"  After  life's  fitful  fever,  he  sleeps  well ; 
Treason  has  done  his  worst :  nor  steel,  nor  poison, 

Malice  domestic, nothing. 

Can  touch  him  further  !  " 

For  this  let  us  be  thankful.  We  visited  Words- 
worth's grave  reverently  in  the  twilight.  Fresh,  very 
fresh  flowers  lay  upon  it.  God  bless  the  hand  that 
strewed  them  there  this  day  !  I  think  the  following 
the  one  very  great  thing  he  gave  the  world  ;  it  contains 
"  the  golden  guess  which  ever  is  the  morning  star  to 
the  full  round  of  truth."  The  thought  of  the  age — 
whether  right  or  wrong  we  need  not  discuss — is  hither- 
ward  : 


230  Four-in-Hand  in  Britain. 

"  For  I  have  learned 
To  look  on  Nature,  not  as  in  the  hour 
Of  thoughtless  youth  ;  but  hearing  oftentimes 
The  still,  sad  music  of  humanity, 
Not  harsh  nor  grating,  though  of  ample  power 
To  chasten  and  subdue.     And  I  have  felt 
A  presence  that  disturbs  me  with  the  joy 
Of  elevated  thoughts  :  a  sense  sublime 
Of  something  far  more  deeply  interfused. 
Whose  dwelling  is  the  light  of  setting  suns. 
And  the  round  ocean,  and  the  living  air, 
And  the  blue  sky,  and  in  the  mind  of  man 
A  motion  and  a  spirit  that  impels 
All  thinking  things,  all  objects  of  all  thought, 
And  rolls  through  all  things." 

There's  a  platform  upon  which  this  sceptical  age 
may  eventually  stand.  It  is  not  materialistic  and  it  is 
not  dogmatic  ;  perhaps  it  is  the  golden  mean  between 
extremes.  I  commend  its  teachings  to  both  sides  of  all 
the  cock-sure  disputants,  one  of  whom  knows  it  is  just  so, 
and  the  other  as  presumptuously  knows  there  is  nothing 
to  know.  Let  them  shake  hands  and  await  patiently  the 
coming  of  clearer  light,  and  get  together  in  solid  work 
here.  Surely  there  is  enough  to  keep  them  busy.  We 
still  "  see  through  a  glass  darkly." 

We  spent  our  night  at  Grassmere,  and  had  a  fine 
row  upon  the  lake  ;  and  can  anything  be  finer  than  music 
upon  the  waters,  the  dip  of  the  oar,  the  cadence  of  the 
songwhich  seems  to  float  upon  the  glassy  lake  ?  It  came 


Carnegie   Weather.  231 

to  us  again  lulling  us  to  sleep — the  sweetest  lullaby, 
sure  precursor  of  happy  dreams. 


Grassmere,  July  13. 
''  Right,  Perry  !  "  Off  for  Keswick,  only  twelve 
miles  distant  ;  but  who  wants  to  hurry  away  from 
scenes  like  these  ?  It  rained  heavily  through  the  night, 
but  this  morning  is  grand  for  us.  The  mist  was  on  the 
mountains  though,  and  the  clouds  passed  slowly  over 
them,  wrapping  the  tops  in  their  mantle.  The  numer- 
ous rills  dashing  down  the  bare  mountains  were  the 
themes  of  much  praise.  They  reminded  me  of  two  fine 
verses  from  the  "  Light  of  Asia  "  upon  "  Being's  cease- 
less tide," 

"  Which,  ever-changing,  runs,  linked  like  a  river 
By  ripples  following  ripples,  fast  or  slow — 
The  same,  yet  not  the  same — from  far-off  fountains 

To  where  its  waters  flow 
Into  the  seas.     These  steaming  to  the  sun, 

Give  the  lost  wavelets  back  in  cloudy  fleece 
To  trickle  down  the  hills,  and  glide  again  ; 
Knowing  no  pause  or  peace." 

We  seem  to  be  miraculously  protected  from  rain. 
Many  times  it  has  poured  during  the  night,  and  yet 
the  days  have  been  perfect.  "  Carnegie  weather  "  be- 
gins to  be  talked  about,  and  we  are  all  disposed  to 
accept  the  inference  that  the  fair  goddess  Fortune  has 
fallen  deep  in  love  with  us,  since  Prosperity  seems  to  be 
our  page  during  this  journey. 


232  FouT-in-Hand  in  Britain. 

The  influence  of  America  and  of  American  ideas 
upon  England  is  seen  in  various  ways.  We  meet  fre- 
quently one  who  has  visited  the  Republic,  whose  ad- 
vanced ideas,  in  consequence  of  the  knowledge  derived 
from  actual  contact  with  American  affairs,  are  very  de- 
cidedly proclaimed. 

While  on  the  train  to-day  we  met  a  rattler  of  this 
kind,  who  gave  many  instances  of  the  non-receptivity 
of  his  countrymen.  I  remember  one  of  his  complaints 
was  in  regard  to  a  pea-sheller  which  he  had  seen  at 
work  in  one  of  our  monster  hotels.  He  was  so  pleased 
that  he  bought  one  and  took  it  in  triumph  to  his  inn- 
keeper at  home :  "  Blessed  if  the  servants  would  work 
it,  sir ;  no,  sir,  wouldn't  shell  a  pea  with  it,  sir.  Look 
where  we  are  in  the  race  of  new  inventions,  sir.  We're 
not  in  it.     Lord  bless  you,  sir,  England  isnt  in  it'' 

This  man,  like  converts  in  general  to  new  ideas, 
went  much  too  far.  Any  one  who  thinks  that  England 
is  not  in  the  race,  and  pretty  well  placed  too,  has  not 
looked  very  deep.  We  did  what  we  could  to  give  him 
a  juster  conception  of  his  country's  position  than  he  ap- 
parently entertained.  "  What  on  earth,"  I  said  to  him, 
"  has  a  small  English  hotel  to  do  with  a  pea-sheller?  I 
have  never  heard  of  this  Yankee  notion,  but  I  doubt 
not  that  one  pea-sheller  would  shell  all  the  peas  required 
by  all  the  guests  of  all  the  hotels  in  town,  if  they  fed 
the  inmates  on  nothing  but  pea  soup  !  "  But  he  would 
not  be  convinced.     It  was  just  the  same  with  any  other 


Amcricaji  Presidents  and  Royalty,        233 

improvement,  he  said,  and  he  got  out  at  a  station,  mut- 
tering as  he  went :  "  No,  sir,  she  isn't  in  it,  I  tell  you  ;  she 
isiit  in  it"  All  right,  you  constitutional  grumbler,  have 
it  your  own  way.  If  this  man  were  upon  our  side,  he 
would  not  live  twenty-four  hours  without  finding  fault 
with  something.  He  is  one  of  those  who  carry  their  pea- 
sheller  with  them,  or  find  it  at  every  turn.  He  belongs 
to  the  class  of  grumblers — those  who  cannot  enjoy  the 
bright  genial  rays  of  the  sun  for  thinking  of  the  spots 
upon  it — just  such  another  as  he  who  found  that  even 
in  Paradise  "  the  halo  did  not  fit  his  head  exactly." 

The  coaches  in  the  Lake  District  have  now  the  Eng- 
lish and  the  American  flags  upon  their  sides,  and  we 
often  see  the  Stars  and  Stripes  displayed  at  hotels.  Our 
present  hostelry  has  a  flaming  advertisement  ending 
with :  "  Patrons — Royalty  and  American  Presidents." 
There  must  be  slender  grounds  for  both  claims,  I  fancy. 
General  Grant,  however,  may  have  been  there.  As  the 
elected  of  the  largest  division  of  the  English-speaking 
race,  he  no  doubt  outranked  all  other  patrons,  and  the 
proper  way  to  put  it  would  be  "American  Presidents 
and  Royalty." 

At  luncheon  to-day  it  was  found  that  our  drinkables 
had  better  be  cooled  in  the  brook — an  unusual  perform- 
ance this  for  England ;  but  how  vividly  this  little  inci- 
dent brings  to  mind  the  happy  scene — the  row  of 
bottles  (contents  mostly  harmless)  In  the  stream,  stick- 
ing up  their  tiny  heads  as  if  resentful  at  the  extraor- 


234  Foitr-in-Hand  i7i  Britain. 

dinary  bath !  Do  not  imagine  that  our  party  were 
worse  to  water  than  to  corn ;  sixteen  hungry  people 
need  a  good  many  bottles  of  various  kinds,  for  we  had 
many  tastes  to  gratify.  We  were  all  temperance  people, 
however ;  a  few  of  us  even  total  abstinence,  who  re- 
quired special  attention,  for  their  milk  and  lemonade 
were  often  more  difficult  to  procure  than  all  the  other 
fluids.  The  guest  who  gives  least  trouble  in  England,  in 
the  drinkable  department,  is  he  who  takes  beer. 

At  Keswick  we  wandered  round  the  principal  square 
and  laughed  at  the  curious  names  of  the  inns  there.  In 
this  region  inns  abound.  Almost  every  house  in  that 
square  offered  entertainment  for  man  and  beast.  Here 
is  a  true  copy  of  names  of  inns  noted  in  a  few  squares 
in  the  village  :  "  Fighting  Cocks,"  "  Packhorse,"  "  Red 
Lion,"  "  Dog  and  Duck,"  "  Black  Lion,"  "  Deerhound," 
"  White  Hart,"  "  Green  Lion,"  "  Pig  and  Whistle," 
"  White  Lion,"  "  Black  Bull,"  "  Elephant  and  Castle," 
"  Lamb  and  Lark,"  *'  The  Fish."  If  the  whole  village 
were  scanned  there  would  be  beasts  enough  commemo- 
rated in  its  inns  to  make  a  respectable  menagerie.  In- 
deed, for  that  one  "  Green  Lion"  Barnum  might  safely 
pay  more  than  for  Jumbo. 

The  names  of  English  inns  we  have  seen  elsewhere 
are  equally  odd ;  let  me  note  a  few :  "  Hen  and  Chick- 
ens," "  Dog  and  Doublet,"  "  King  and  Crown,"  "  Hole  in 
the  Wall,"  "  Struggling  Man,"  "  Jonah  and  the  Ark," 
'*  Angel  and  Woolsack,"  "  Adam  and  Eve,"  "  Rose  and 


Freedom  and  Equality.  235 

Crown,"  "  Crown  and  Cushion."  We  laughed  at  one 
with  an  old-fashioned  swinging  sign,  upon  which  a 
groom  was  scrubbing  away  at  a  naked  black  man  (you 
could  almost  hear  his  pruss,  pruss,  pruss).  The  name 
of  the  house  was  "  Labor  in  Vain  Inn  " — a  perfect  illus- 
tration, no  doubt,  in  one  sense ;  in  the  higher  sense,  not 
so.  Under  the  purifying  influences  of  equality,  found 
only  in  republican  institutions,  America  has  taught  the 
world  she  can  soon  make  white  men  out  of  black.  Her 
effort  to  change  the  slave  into  a  freeman  has  been  any- 
thing but  labor  in  vain ;  what  is  under  the  skin  can  be 
made  white  enough  always,  if  we  go  at  it  with  the  right 
brush.  None  genuine  unless  stamped  with  the  well- 
known  brand  "  Republic."  "  All  men  are  born  free  and 
equal"  is  warranted  to  cure  the  most  desperate  cases 
when  all  other  panaceas  fail,  from  a  mild  monarchy  up 
to  a  German  despotism;  and  is  especially  adapted  for 
Irishmen.  To  be  well  shaken,  however,  before  taken, 
and  applied  internally,  externally,  and  eternally,  like 
Colonel  Sellers'  eye-wash. 

Harry  and  I  were  absent  part  of  this  day,  having  run 
down  to  Workington  to  see  our  friend  Mr.  G.,  at  the 
Steel  Rail  Mills.  Pardon  us  ! — this  was  our  only  taste 
of  business  during  the  trip  ;  never  had  the  affairs  of  this 
world  been  so  completely  banished  from  our  thoughts. 
To  get  back  to  blast-furnaces  and  rolling  mills  was  dis- 
tressing ;  but  we  could  not  well  pass  our  friend's  door, 
so  to  speak.     We  have  nothing  to  say   about   manu- 


22,6  Four-in-Hand  in  Britain, 

facturing,  for  it  is  just  with  that  as  with  their  poHtical 
institutions  :  England  keeps  about  a  generation  behind, 
and  yet  deludes  herself  with  the  idea  that  she  is  the 
leader  among  nations.  The  truth  is,  she  is  often  not 
even  a  good  follower  where  others  lead,  but  exceptions 
must  be  noted  here  :  a  few  of  her  ablest  men  are  not  be- 
hind America  in  manufacturing,  for  there  are  one  or 
perhaps  two  establishments  in  England  which  lead 
America.  A  great  race  is  the  British  when  they  do  go 
to  work  and  get  rid  of  their  antiquated  prejudices. 
Visitors  to  America  like  Messrs.  Howard,  Lothian  Bell, 
Windsor  Richards,  Martin,  and  others,  have  no  preju- 
dices which  stick.  But  let  Uncle  Sam  look  out.  If  he 
thinks  John  Bull  will  remain  behind  in  the  industrial  or 
the  political  race  either,  I  do  not ;  and  I  believe  when 
he  sets  to  work  in  earnest  he  cannot  be  beaten.  The 
Republic  of  England,  when  it  comes,  will  excel  all  other 
republics  as  much  as  the  English  monarchy  has  excelled 
all  other  monarchies,  or  as  much  as  Windsor  Richards' 
steel  practice  and  plant  excel  any  we  can  boast  of  here 
at  present.  It  is  our  turn  now  to  take  a  step  forward, 
unless  we  are  content  to  be  beaten.  This  is  all  right. 
Long  may  the  two  branches  of  the  family  stimulate 
each  other  to  further  triumphs,  the  elder  encouraging 
us  to  hold  fast  that  which  is  good,  the  younger  pointing 
the  way  upward  and  onward — a  race  in  which  neither 
can  lose,  but  in  which  both  must  win !  Clear  the 
course !     Fair  play  and  victory  to  both  ! 


Democracy  in  Engla7id.  237 

The  report  of  the  annual  public  debate  of  Uni- 
versity College,  London,  attracted  our  notice  to-day 
before  leaving  Kendal.  The  subject  debated  was : 
"  That  the  advance  of  Democracy  in  England  will 
tend  to  strengthen  the  Foundations  of  Society." 

Lord  Rosebery  presided,  and  it  is  his  speech  at  the 
close  which  possesses  political  significance  as  coming 
from  one  who  wears  his  rank 

"  For  the  sake  of  liberal  uses 
And  of  great  things  to  be  done," 

and  of  whom  almost  any  destiny  may  be  predicted  if  he 
hold  the  true  course.     He  said  : 

"  As  regards  government,  there  seemed  to  be  great 
advantage  in  democracy.  With  an  oligarchy  the  re- 
sponsibility was  too  great  and  the  penalty  for  failure  too 
high.  He  did  not  share  the  asperity  manifested  by  one 
of  the  speakers  against  American  institutions,  and,  hav- 
ing visited  the  country  on  several  occasions,  he  felt  the 
greatest  warmth  for  America  and  the  American  people. 
Persons  who  elected  by  free  choice  a  moderate  intellect 
to  represent  them  were  better  off  than  those  who  had  a 
leviathan  intellect  placed  over  them  against  their  will, 
and  this  free  choice  the  people  of  the  United  States 
possessed.  It  had  been  said  by  the  opponents  of  de- 
mocracy that  the  best  men  in  America  devoted  them- 
selves to  money-getting ;  but  this  was  a  strong  argu- 
ment in  its  favor,  as  showing  that  democracy  was  not 


238  Four-in-Hand  Z7i  Britain. 

correctly    represented   as   a  kind   of   grabbing  at   the 
property  of  others." 

Never  were  truer  words  spoken  than  these,  my  lord. 
What  a  pity  you  were  not  allowed  the  privilege  of  start- 
ing "  at  scratch  "  in  life's  race,  like  Gladstone  or  Dis- 
raeli !  From  any  success  achieved  there  must  be  made 
the  just  deduction  for  so  many  yards  allowed  Lord 
Rosebery.  Receive  the  sincere  condolences  of  him  who 
welcomed  you  to  honorary  membership  of  the  Burns 
Club  of  New  York,  not  because  of  these  unfortunate, 
unfair  disadvantages,  for  he  would  not  have  welcomed  a 
prince  for  his  rank,  but  for  your  merits  as  a  man. 


Penrith,  July  14. 

We  reached  Penrith,  July  14th,  after  a  delightful  day's 
drive.  Never  were  the  Gay  Charioteers  happier,  for  the 
hilly  ground  gave  us  many  opportunities  for  grand 
walks.  When  these  come  it  is  a  red-letter  day.  The 
pleasure  of  walking  should  rank  as  one  of  the  seven  dis- 
tinct pleasures  of  existence,  and  yet  I  have  some  friends 
who  know  nothing  of  it ;  they  are  not  coaching  through 
England,  however. 

I  have  omitted  to  chronicle  the  change  that  came 
over  the  Queen  Dowager  shortly  after  we  started  from 
Wolverhampton  ;  till  then  she  had  kept  the  seat  of 
honor  next  to  Perry,  inviting  one  after  another  as  a 
special  honor  to  sit  in  front  with  her.  She  soon  dis- 
covered that  a  good  deal  of  the  fun  going  on  was  missed  ; 


On  the  Borders,  239 

besides,  she  had  not  all  of  us  under  her  eye.  Her  seat 
was  exchanged  for  the  middle  of  the  back  form,  where 
she  was  supported  by  one  on  each  side,  while  four  others 
had  their  faces  turned  to  hers,  giving  an  audience  of  no 
less  than  six  for  her  stories  and  old  ballads.  Her 
tongue  went  from  morning  till  night,  if  I  do  say  it,  and 
her  end  of  the  coach  was  always  in  for  its  share  of  any 
frolic  stirring.  She  was  *'  in  a  gale  "  all  day  to-day,  and 
kept  us  all  roaring. 

Our  next  stage  would  take  us  to  Carlisle,  the  border- 
town  behind  which  lay  the  sacred  soil,  "  Scotia  dear." 
Mr.  B.  and  his  son  joined  us  here  and  went  on  with  us 
the  last  day  upon  English  soil,  waving  adieu,  as  it  were, 
as  we  plunged  into  Scotland.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  K.  left  us 
for  Paisley  to  see  the  children,  and  what  a  loss  I  here 
record  no  one  but  the  members  can  possibly  under- 
stand. Aaleck  and  Aggie  gone !  If  anything  could 
long  dampen  the  joyous  spirits  of  the  party,  this  separa- 
tion surely  would  have  done  it ;  but  we  were  to  meet 
again  in  Edinburgh,  where  the  reconstruction  of  the 
Charioteers  was  to  take  place.  At  Carlisle,  too,  the 
Parisians  were  to  be  welcomed  back  again — plenty  to 
look  forward  to,  you  see.  We  started  for  Carlisle  July 
15th,  the  day  superb  as  usual. 

We  had  left  the  Lake  District,  with  its  hills  and 
flowing  streams,  to  pass  through  a  tamer  land  ;  but  our 
luncheon  to-day,  in  a  field  near  "  Hesketh  in  the 
Forest,"     was   not   unromantic.     The    members    from 


240  Fou7'-in-Hand  in  Bi'itain, 

Anderton  Hall  caught  the  fever,  as  was  usual  with 
neophytes,  and  regretted  that  their  return  was  impera- 
tively required.  One  day  gave  them  a  taste  of  the  true 
gypsy  life.  Hesketh  was  "  in  the  Forest,"  no  doubt, 
but  this  was  many  long  years  ago.  To-day  there  is 
nothing  to  justify  its  name.  Smiling  green  fields,  roads 
as  perfect  as  they  can  be  made,  pretty  houses,  trim 
hedge-rows  and  gardens,  and  all  so  intensely  civilized  as 
to  bring  vividly  before  you  the  never  ceasing  change 
which  the  surface  of  the  earth  undergoes  to  fit  it  for  the 
sustenance  of  dense  masses  of  men. 


Carlisle,  July  15. 

Here  is  reconstruction  for  you  with  a  vengeance ! 
First,  let  us  mourn  the  unhappy  departures :  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  K.  went  yesterday  and  Miss  R.,  Miss  G.,  the  Misses 
B.,  Miss  D.  and  Mr.  B.  and  son  go  to-day.  Cousin 
Maggie,  who  had  become  absorbed  in  this  kind  of  life, 
so  dazed  with  happiness,  her  turn  has  come  too,  even 
she  must  go  ;  Andrew  M.,  with  his  fine  Scotch  aroma 
and  his  songs,  must  report  to  his  superior  officer  at  the 
encampment,  for  is  he  not  a  gallant  volunteer  and  an 
ofificer  under  Her  Majesty,  "  sworn  never  to  desert  his 
home  except  in  case  of  invasion  !  "  Well,  we  cannot  help 
these  miserable  changes  in  this  world,  nor  the  *'  sawt, 
sawt  tears  "  of  the  young  ladies  as  they  kiss  each  other, 
swearing  eternal  friendship,  and  sob  good-byes. 

But  if  farewell  ever  sighs,  welcome  comes  in  smiling. 


Farewell  to  England.  241 

Look !  Cousin  E.  in  my  arms  and  a  warm  kiss  of  wel- 
come !  That  is  the  very  best  of  consolation.  Clever, 
artistic  Miss  R.,  too,  from  Edinburgh  ;  and  then  are  we 
not  to  have  our  four  originals  back  again,  after  two  long 
weeks'  absence  !  It  was  fortunate  that  our  sad  farewells 
were  so  promptly  followed  by  smiling  welcomes. 

Do  any  people  love  their  country  as  passionately  as 
the  Scotch  ?  I  mean  the  earth  of  it,  the  very  atoms  of 
which  its  hills  and  glens  are  composed.  I  doubt  it. 
Now  here  is  Maggie,  a  douse,  quiet,  sensible  girl.  I 
tried  to  say  something  cheery  to  her  to-day  as  we  were 
approaching  Carlisle,  where  we  were  to  part,  reminding 
her  jokingly  that  she  had  received  five  weeks'  coaching 
while  her  poor  sister  Eliza  would  have  only  two.  "  Ah  ! 
but  she  has  Scotland,  Naig !  "  "  Do  you  really  mean  to 
tell  me  that  you  would  rather  have  two  weeks  in  your 
own  country  than  five  weeks  seeing  a  new  land,  and  that 
land  England,  with  London  and  Brighton,  and  the  lakes, 
and  all?"  I  just  wish  you  could  have  seen  and  heard, 
how  the  '*  Of  course  "  came  in  reply.  The  Scotch,  always, 
have  Scotland  first  in  their  hearts,  and  sorhe  of  them,  I  ^ 
really  believe,  will  get  into  trouble  criticising  Paradise;  \ 
if  it  be  found  to  differ  materially  from  Scotland.  ' 

To-morrow  we  are  to  enter  that -land  of  lands.  Fair 
England,  farewell !  How  graciously  kind  has  been  the 
reception  accorded  by  you  to  the  wanderers !  How 
beautiful  you  are !  how  tenderly  dear  you  have  be- 
come to  all  of  us !  Not  one  of  us  but  can  close  his 
16 


242  Four-in-Haiid  in  Britain. 

eyes  and  revel  in  such  quiet  beauty  as  never  before  was 

his. 

"  Not  a  grand  nature  .  .  . 

On  English  ground 
You  understand  the  letter  .  .   .  ere  the  fall 
How  Adam  lived  in  a  garden.     All  the  fields 
Are  tied  up  fast  with  hedges,  nosegay  like ; 
The  hills  are  crumpled  plains — the  plains  pastures. 
And  if  you  seek  for  any  wilderness 
You  find  at  best  a  park.     A  nature 
Tamed  and  grown  domestic  .  .   . 
A  sweet  familiar  nature,  stealing  in 
As  a  dog  might,  or  child,  to  touch  your  hand, 
Or  pluck  your  gown,  and  humbly  mind  you  so 
Of  presence  and  affection." 

"  There  is  no  farewell  to  scenes  like  thine."  From 
the  depths  of  every  heart  in  our  company  comes  the 
trembling  "  God  bless  you,  England  ! " 


SCOTLAND. 

"  Away,  ye  gay  landscapes,  ye  gardens  of  roses  ! 

In  you  let  the  niinions  of  luxury  rove  ; 
Restore  me  the  rocks  where  the  snowflake  reposes, 

Though  still  they  are  sacred  to  freedom  and  love  : 
Yet,  Caledonia,  beloved  are  thy  mountains, 

Round  their  white  summits  though  elements  war  ; 
Though  cataracts  foam  'stead  of  smooth  flowing  fountains, 

I  sigh  for  the  valley  of  dark  Loch  na  Garr." 

It  was  on  Saturday,  July  i6th,  that  we  went  over 
the  border.  The  bridge  across  the  boundary  Hne  was 
soon  reached.  When  midway  over  a  halt  was  called, 
and  vent  given  to  our  enthusiasm.  With  three  cheers 
for  the  land  of  the  heather,  shouts  of  "  Scotland  for- 
ever," and  the  waving  of  hats  and  handkerchiefs,  we 
dashed  across  the  border.  O  Scotland,  my  own,  my 
native  land,  your  exiled  son  returns  with  love  for 
you  as  ardent  as  ever  warmed  the  heart  of  man  for  his 
country.  It's  a  God's  mercy  I  was  born  a  Scotchman, 
for  I  do  not  see  how  I  could  ever  have  been  contented 
to  be  anything  else.  The  little  plucky  dour  deevil,  set 
in  her  own  ways  and  getting  them  too,  level-headed  and 
shrewd,  with  an  eye  to  the  main  chance  always  and  yet 
so  lovingly  weak,  so  fond,  so  led  away  by  song  or  story, 

243 


244  Fotir-in-Hand  in  Britain. 

so  easily  touched  to  fine  issues,  so  leal,  so  true  !  Ah  ! 
you  suit  me,  Scotia,  and  proud  am  I  that  I  am  youi 
son. 

We  stopped  at  Gretna  Green,  of  course,  and  walked 
to  the  site  of  the  famous  blacksmith-shop  where  so 
many  romantic  pairs  have  been  duly  joined  in  the  holy 
bonds  of  wedlock.  A  wee  laddie  acted  as  guide,  and 
from  him  we  had  our  first  real  broad  Scotch.  His 
dialect  was  perfect.  He  brought  "  wee  Davie  "  to  mind 
at  once.  I  offered  him  a  shilling  if  he  could  "  screed 
me  aff  effectual  calling."  He  knew  his  catechism,  but 
he  could  not  understand  it.  Never  mind  that,  Davie, 
that  is  another  matter.  Older  heads  than  yours  have 
bothered  over  that  doctrine  and  never  got  to  the  bot- 
tom of  it.  Besides  there  will  be  a  "  revised  edition  "  of 
that  before  you  are  a  man.  Just  you  let  it  alone  ;  it  is 
the  understanding  of  that  and  some  other  dogmas  of 
poor  ignorant  man's  invention  that  thin  the  churches  of 
men  who  think  and  "  make  of  sweet  religion  a  rhapsody 
of  words."  "But  do  you  ken  Burns?"  "Aye,"  said 
Davie,  "  I  ken  *  A  man's  a  man  for  a'  that,'  and  *  Auld 
Lang  Syne.'  "  "  Good  for  you,  Davie,  there's  another 
shilling.  Good-bye !  But  I  say,  Davie,  if  you  can't 
possibly  remember  all  three  of  these  pieces,  don't  let  it 
be  '  A  man's  a  man  for  a'  that '  that  you  forget,  for 
Scotchmen  will  need  to  remember  that  one  of  these 
days  when  we  begin  to  set  things  to  rights  in  earnest 
and  demand  the  same  privileges  for  prince,  peer,  and 


Lunch  at  Annan.  245 

peasant.  Don't  let  it  be  '  Auld  Lang  Syne,'  either,  for 
there  is  more  of  '  Peace  and  Good-will  upon  Earth,' 
the  essence  of  true  religion,  in  that  grand  song  than 
in  your  effectual  calling,  Davie,  my  wee  mannie.  At 
least  there  is  one  who  thinks  so."  Davie  got  my  ad 
dress,  and  said  may  be  he  would  come  to  America  when 
he  grew  to  be  a  man.  I  promised  to  give  him  a  chance 
if  he  had  not  forgotten  Burns,  which  is  all  we  can  do  in 
the  Republic,  where  merit  is  the  only  road  to  success. 
We  may  make  a  Republican  out  of  him  yet,  and  have 
him  return  to  his  fellows  to  preach  the  equality  of  man, 
the  sermon  Scotland  needs. 

We  lunched  at  Annan.  It  was  at  first  decided  that 
we  had  better  be  satisfied  with  hotel  accommodations, 
as  the  day  though  fine  was  cool,  with  that  little  nip  in 
the  air  which  gives  it  the  bracing  quality ;  but  after  we 
had  entered  the  hotel  the  sun  burst  forth,  and  the  long- 
ing for  the  green  fields  could  not  be  overcome.  We 
walked  through  the  village  across  the  river,  and  found  a 
pretty  spot  in  a  grove  upon  high  ground  commanding 
extensive  views  up  and  down  the  stream,  and  there  we 
gave  our  new  members  their  first  luncheon.  It  would 
have  been  a  great  pity  had  we  missed  this  picnic,  for  it 
was  in  every  respect  up  to  the  standard.  I  laugh  as  I 
recall  the  difKiculties  encountered  in  selecting  the  fine 
site.  The  committee  had  fixed  upon  a  tolerably  good 
location  in  a  field  near  the  river,  but  this  knoll  was  in 
sight,  and  we  were  tempted  to  go  to  it.     We  had  gone 


246  Four 'in-Hand  in  Britain. 

so  far  from  the  hotel  where  the  coach  was,  that  Perry 
and  Joe  had  to  get  a  truck  to  bring  the  hampers.  I 
remember  seeing  them  pushing  it  across  the  bridge  and 
up  against  the  wall  over  which  most  of  us  had  clambered. 
When  the  Queen  Dowager's  turn  came  the  wall  was 
found  to  be  rather  too  much  for  her,  but  our  managers 
were  versatile.  The  truck  was  brought  into  requisition, 
and  she  was  safely  drawn  from  its  platform  over  the 
wall,  I  stood  back  and  could  do  nothing  for  laughter, 
but  the  Dowager,  who  was  not  to  be  daunted,  went  over 
amid  the  cheers  of  the  party.  It  was  resolved,  however, 
to  be  a  little  more  circumspect  in  future ;  wall-climbing 
at  seventy-one  has  its  limits. 

Here  is  the  bridge  built  by  that  worthy  man  and 
excellent  representative  of  what  is  best  in  Scottish 
character  in  lowly  life,  James  Carlyle — an  honest  brig 
destined  to  stand  and  never  shame  the  builder.  1  re- 
member how  proudly  Carlyle  speaks  of  his  father's 
work.  No  sham  about  either  the  man  or  his  work,  as 
little  as  there  was  in  his  more  famous  son.  I  wish  I 
could  quote  something  from  "  Adam  Bede  "  I  think  it  is 
— where  Garth  the  stone-mason  thinks  good  work  in 
his  masonry  the  best  prayer  he  had  to  stand  upon. 

Many  have  expressed  surprise  at  "  Carlyle's  Remi- 
niscences," at  the  gnarled,  twisted  oak  they  show,  preju- 
diced here,  ill-tempered  there.  What  did  such  people 
expect,  I  wonder?  A  poor,  reserved,  proud  Scotch  lad, 
who  had   to   fight  his  way  against  the  grim   devils  of 


Carlyle  and  Black.  247 

poverty  and  neglect,  of  course  he  is  twisted  and 
"  thrawn "  ;  but  a  grand,  tough  oak  for  all  that,  as 
sound,  stanch  timber  as  ever  grew,  and  Scotch  to  the 
core.  Did  any  one  take  you,  Thomas  Carlyle,  for  a  fine, 
symmetrical  sycamore,  or  a  graceful  clinging  vine?  I 
think  the  "  Reminiscences,"  upon  the  whole,  a  valuable 
contribution  to  literature.  Nor  has  Carlyle  suffered  in 
my  estimation  from  knowing  so  much  of  what  one 
might  have  expected.  But  will  these  critics  of  a  grand 
individuality  be  kind  enough  to  tell  us  when  we  shall 
look  upon  his  like  again,  or  where  another  Jenny  Car- 
lyle is  to  come  from  ?  She  is  splendid !  The  little 
tot  who  "  bluided  a  laddie's  nose  "  with  her  closed  fist 
and  conquered  "  the  bubbley  jock."  This  was  in  her 
early  childhood's  days,  and  look  at  her  woman's  work 
for  Carlyle  if  you  want  a  pattern  for  wives,  my  young 
lady  friends,  at  least  as  a  bachelor  pictures  wifehood  at 
its  best.  The  story  told  of  Mr.  Black's  meeting  with 
Carlyle  should  be  true,  if  it  be  not.  ''  Oh,  Mr.  Black," 
exclaimed  Carlyle,  "  I'm  glad  to  see  ye,  man.  I've  read 
some  of  yer  books  ;  they're  vera  amusin' ;  ye  ken  Scotch 
scenery  well ;  but  when  are  yer  goin'  to  do  some  wark, 
man  ?  "  Great  work  did  the  old  man  do  in  his  day,  no 
doubt ;  but  they  also  work  who  plant  the  roses,  Thomas, 
else  were  we  little  better  than  the  beasts  of  the  field. 
Carlyle  did  not  see  this.  Black  is  doing  his  appointed 
work  and  doing  it  well  too,  and  Scotland  is  proud  of 
her  gifted  son. 


248  Four-in-Hand  in  Britain, 

Dumfries,  July  16-17. 

We  were  at  Dumfries  for  Sunday.  We  had  just  got 
housed  at  the  hotel  and  sat  down  to  dinner  when  we 
heard  a  vehicle  stop,  and  running  to  the  window  saw 
our  anxiously  expected  Parisians  at  the  door.  Hurrah! 
welcome  !  welcome  !  Once  more  united,  never  to  part 
again  till  New  York  be  reached !  It  was  a  happy 
meeting,  and  there  was  much  to  tell  upon  both  sides, 
but  the  coachers  evidently  had  the  better  of  it.  The 
extreme  heat  encountered  in  France  had  proved  very 
trying.  The  Prima  Donna  was  tired  out.  She  vividly 
expressed  her  feelings  thus,  when  asked  how  she  had 
enjoyed  life  since  she  left  the  Ark :  "  Left  the  Ark ! 
I  felt  as  if  I  had  been  poked  out  of  it  like  the  dove  to 
find  out  about  the  weather,  and  had  found  it  rough. 
When  I  lose  sight  of  the  coach  again,  just  let  me  know 
it  ! "  We,  on  our  part,  were  very  glad  to  get  our  pretty 
little  dove  back,  and  promised  that  she  should  never  be 
sent  forth  from  among  us  again. 

One  becomes  confused  at  Dumfries,  there  Is  so 
much  to  learn.  We  are  upon  historic  ground  in  the 
fullest  sense,  and  so  crowded  too  with  notable  men  and 
events.  Bruce  slew  the  Red  Comyn  here  in  the  church 
of  the  Minorite  Friars,  now  no  longer  existing.  The 
monastery,  of  which  it  formed  a  part,  the  foundation  of 
the  mother  of  John  Baliol,  King  of  Scotland,  stood  on 
an  eminence,  the  base  of  which  is  washed  on  the  north 
and  west  by  the  waters  of  the  Nith.      It  is  said  to  have 


Dumfries,  249 

been  deserted  after  the  pollution  of  its  high  altar  with 
the  blood  of  the  Comyns,  and  about  two  centuries 
afterward  the  Maxwells  built  a  splendid  castle  out  of 
its  ruins  and  almost  on  its  site  ;  but  the  fortune  of  war 
and  old  Father  Time  levelled  its  massive  walls  in  turn, 
and  now  no  vestige  remains  of  either  monastery  or 
castle.  The  castle  of  the  Comyns,  too,  which  occupied 
a  romantic  site  a  little  way  south  of  the  town,  at  a 
place  still  called  Castledykes,  has  left  but  slight  memo- 
rials of  its  olden  grandeur. 

Among  the  noted  men  of  the  world  whom  Dumfries 
numbers  among  her  children  are  the  Admirable  Crichton, 
Paul  Jones,  Allan  Cunningham,  Carlyle,  Neilson  of 
the  hot  blast,  Patterson,  the  founder  of  the  Bank  of 
England,  and  Miller  of  the  steamship.  Still  another, 
a  Scotch  minister,  was  the  founder  of  savings-banks. 
While  not  forgetting  to  urge  his  flock  to  lay  up  treas- 
ures in  the  next  world,  he  did  not  fail  to  impress  upon 
them  a  like  necessity  of  putting  by  a  competence  for 
this  one,  sensible  man !  How  many  ministers  leave 
behind  them  as  powerful  an  agency  for  the  improve- 
ment of  the  masses  as  this  Dumfries  man,  the  Rev.  Mr. 
Duncan,  has  in  savings-banks  ?  All  the  speculative 
opinions  about  the  other  world  which  man  can  indulge 
in  are  as  nothing  to  the  acquisition  of  those  good, 
sober,  steady  habits  which  render  possible  upon  the 
part  of  the  wage-receiving  class  a  good  deposit  in  that 
minister's  savings-bank.     The  Rev.  Mr.  Duncan  is  my 


250  Fou7'-in-Hand  in  Britain. 

kind  of  minister,  one  who  works  much  and  preaches 
little.     There  is  room  for  more  of  his  kind. 

It  is  to  Dumfries  we  are  also  indebted  for  the  steam- 
ship, as  far  as  Britain's  share  in  that  crowning  triumph 
is  concerned,  for,  upon  Dalwinston  Lake,  Miller  used 
the  first  paddles  turned  by  steam.  The  great  magician 
also  has  waved  his  wand  over  this  district.  Ellangowan 
Castle,  Dirk  Hatteraick's  Cave,  and  even  Old  Mortality 
himself  are  all  of  Dumfries ;  and  as  for  Burns,  there  is 
more  of  his  best  work  there  than  anywhere  else,  and 
there  he  lies  at  rest  with  the  thistle  waving  over  him,  fit 
mourner  for  Scotland's  greatest  son,  and  of  all  others 
the  one  he  would  have  chosen.  How  he  loved  it! 
Think  of  his  lines  about  the  emblem  dear,  written  while 
still  a  boy. 

I  v/anted  to  stay  a  week  in  Dumfries,  and  I  deemed 
myself  fortunate  to  be  able  to  spend  Sunday  there.  Two 
Dunfermline  gentlemen  now  resident  there,  Messrs.  R. 
and  A.,  were  kind  enough  to  call  upon  us  and  offer  their 
services.  This  was  thoughtful  and  pleased  me  much. 
Accordingly  on  Sunday  morning  we  started  with  Mr.  R. 
and  did  the  town,  Maxwelton  Braes,  Burns's  house,  and 
last  his  grave.  None  of  us  had  ever  been  there  before, 
and  we  were  glad  to  make  the  pilgrimage.  Horace 
Greeley  (how  he  did  worship  Burns  !)  has  truly  said  that 
of  the  thousands  who  yearly  visit  Shakespeare's  birth- 
place, most  are  content  to  engrave  their  names  with  a 
diamond  upon  the  glass,  but  few  indeed  leave  the  rest- 


Home  of  Burns.  251 

ing-place  of  the  ploughman  without  dropping  a  tear 
upon  the  grave ;  for  of  all  men  he  it  was  who  nestled 
closest  to  the  bosom  of  humanity.  It  is  true  that  of  all 
the  children  of  men  Burns  is  the  best  beloved.  Carlyle 
knew  him  well,  for  he  said  Burns  was  the  ^olian  harp 
of  nature  against  which  the  rude  winds  of  adversity  blew, 
only  to  be  transmitted  in  their  passage  into  heavenly 
music. 

I  think  these  are  the  two  finest  things  that  have 
been  said  about  our  idol,  or  about  any  idol,  and  I  be- 
lieve them  to  be  deserved.  So  did  Carlyle  and  Greeley, 
for  they  were  not  flatterers.  Of  what  other  human 
being  could  these  two  things  be  truly  said  ?  I  know  of 
none. 

Our  friends,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  N.,  are  the  fortunate 
owners  of  Friars  Carse  estate.  They  called  upon  us  Sun- 
day noon,  and  invited  us  to  dine  with  them  that  evening. 
A  delegation  from  the  party  accepted,  and  were  much 
pleased  with  their  visit.  Friars  Carse  is  a  lovely  spot. 
The  winding  Nith  is  seen  at  its  best  from  the  lawn. 
As  we  drove  past,  on  Monday  we  stopped  and  enjoyed 
a  morning  visit  to  our  friends,  who  were  exceedingly 
kind.  Mr.  N.  has  earned  the  grateful  remembrance 
of  every  true  lover  of  Burns  by  restoring  the  heritage 
and  guarding  with  jealous  care  every  vestige  of  one  of 
the  half  dozen  geniuses  which  the  world  will  reverence 
more  and  more  as  the  years  roll  by.  He  has  wisely  taken 
out  the  window  upon  the  panes  of  which  Burns  wrote 


252  Four-in-Hand  in  Britain. 

with  a  diamond,  "Thou  whom  chance  may  hither 
lead,"  one  of  my  favorites.  This  is  now  preserved,  to 
be  handed  down  as  an  heirloom  in  the  family,  finally,  we 
hope,  to  find  its  place  in  some  public  collection.  While 
we  were  in  the  mansion  a  granddaughter  of  Annie 
Laurie  actually  came  in.  I  know  of  no  young  lady 
whose  grandmother  is  so  widely  and  favorably  known. 
We  were  all  startled  to  be  brought  so  near  to  the  ideal 
Annie  Laurie  of  our  dreams.  It  only  shows  that  the 
course  of  true  love  never  runs  smooth  when  we  hear 
that  she  did  not  marry  the  poetic  lover.  Well,  may  be 
she  was  happier  with  a  dull  country  squire.  Poets  are 
not  proverbially  model  husbands ;  the  better  poet,  the 
worse  husband,  and  the  writer  of  Annie  Laurie  had  the 
poetic  temperament  pretty  well  developed. 

"  Right,  Perry  !  "  We  are  off  for  Sanquhar,  twenty- 
eight  miles  away ;  the  day  superb,  with  a  freshness  un- 
known in  the  more  genial  South  we  are  rapidly  leaving 

behind.     What  a  pretty  sight  it  was,  to  see  Miss  N 

bounding  along  upon  her  horse  in  the  distance,  an  avant 
courier  leading  us  to  a  warm  welcome  at  her  beautiful 
home  !  Would  I  had  been  beside  her  on  Habeebah  ! 
We  spent  an  hour  or  two  there,  and  then  with  three 
enthusiastic  cheers  for  "  Friars  Carse  and  a'  within  it,"  the 
Charioteers  drove  off ;  but  long  must  fond  recollections 
of  that  estate  and  of  the  faces  seen  there  linger  in  our 
memories  as  among  the  most  pleasing  of  our  ever-mem- 
orable journey.     A  home  upon  the  Nith  near  Dumfries 


Driimlanrig  Castle.  253 

has  many  attractions  indeed.  Our  drive  to-day  lay 
along  the  Nith  and  through  the  Duke  of  Buccleugh's 
grounds  to  his  noble  seat,  Drumlanrig  Castle.  Here  we 
have  a  real  castle  at  last  ;  none  of  your  imported  English 
affairs,  as  tame  as  caged  tigers.  How  poor  and  insignifi- 
cant they  all  seem  to  such  as  this  !  You  want  the 
moors,  the  hills  and  glens,  and  all  the  flavor  of  feudal 
institutions  to  give  a  castle  its  dignity  and  impress  you 
with  the  thoughts  of  by-gone  days.  Modern  castles  in 
England  built  to  order  are  only  playthings,  toys  ;  but  in 
Scotland  they  are  real  and  stir  the  chords.  You  can- 
not have  in  England  a  glen  worthy  of  the  name,  with 
its  dark  amber-brown,  foaming,  rushing  torrent  dashing 
through  it.  We  begin  to  feel  the  exhilarating  influences 
of  the  North  as  we  drive  on,  and  to  understand  its  charm. 
Byron  says  truly : 

"  England  !  thy  beauties  are  tame  and  domestic 
To  one  who  has  roamed  on  the  mountains  afar. 
Oh,  for  the  crags  that  are  wild  and  majestic  ! 
The  steep  frowning  glories  of  dark  Loch  na  Garr." 

This  was  the  feeling  upon  the  coach  to-day.  My 
eyes  watered  now  and  then  and  my  heart  beat  faster  as 
the  grandeur  of  the  scenery  and  the  influences  around 
came  into  play.  This  was  my  land,  England  only  a  far- 
off  connection,  not  one  of  the  family.  "  And  what  do 
you  think  of  Scotland  noo  ?  "  was  often  repeated.  "  The 
grandest  day  yet !  "  was  said  more  than  once  as  we  drove 
through  the  glen ;  but  this  has  been  said  so  often  dur- 


254  Foiir-in-Hand  in  Britain. 

ing  this  wonderful  expedition,  and  has  so  often  been 
succeeded  by  a  day  which  appeared  to  excel  its  famous 
predecessor,  that  we  are  careful  now  to  emphasize  the 
yet  ;  for  indeed  we  feel  that  there  is  no  predicting  what 
glories  Scotland  may  have  in  store  for  us  beyond. 

Our  luncheon  to-day  was  taken  upon  the  banks 
of  the  Nith  ;  an  exquisitely  beautiful  spot.  There  was 
no  repressing  our  jubilant  spirits,  and  sitting  there  on 
the  green  sward  the  party  burst  into  song,  and  one 
Scotch  song  followed  another.  There  was  a  strange 
stirring  of  the  blood,  an  exaltation  of  soul  unknown  be- 
fore. The  pretty  had  been  left  behind,  the  sublime  was 
upon  us.  There  was  a  nip  in  the  air  unfelt  in  the  more 
genial  climate  of  the  South.  The  land  over  which 
brooded  peace  and  quiet  content  had  been  left  behind, 
that  of  the  "  mountain  and  the  flood  "  was  here,  whisper- 
ing of  its  power,  swaying  us  to  and  fro  and  bending  us 
to  its  mysterious  will.  In  the  sough  of  the  wind  comes 
the  call  of  the  genii  to  mount  to  higher  heights,  that  we 
may  exult  in  the  mysteries  of  the  mountain  and  the  glen, 

"  The  steep  frowning  glories  of  dark  Loch  na  Garr." 

Even  our  songs  had  the  wail  of  the  minor  key  sug- 
gesting the  shadows  of  human  life,  eras  of  storm  and 
strife,  of  heroic  endurance  and  of  noble  sacrifice ;  the 
struggle  of  an  overmatched  people  contending  for 
generations  against  fearful  odds  and  maintaining  through 
all   vicissitudes   a   distinctively   national  life.     That  is 


The  Cameromans.  255 

what  makes  a  Scotchman  proud  of  this  peculiar  Httle 
piece  of  earth,  and  stirs  his  blood  and  fills  his  eyes  as  he 
returns  to  her  bosom. 

We  rested  over  Monday  night,  July  i8th,  at  Sanqu- 
har, a  long  one-main-street  village,  whose  little  inn  could 
not  accommodate  us  all,  but  the  people  were  kind,  and 
the  gentlemen  of  the  party  had  no  cause  to  complain  of 
their  quarters.  It  was  here  that  the  minister  absolved 
the  Cameronians  from  allegiance  to  "  the  ungodly  king' 
— a  great  step.  Those  sturdy  Cameronians  probably 
knew  little  of  Shakespeare,  but  I  fancy  the  speech  of 
that  rebel  minister  could  not  have  been  better  ended,  or 
begun  either,  than  with  the  outburst  of  Laertes  to  an- 
other wicked  king: 

"  I'll  not  be  juggled  with  : 
To  hell,  allegiance  !  " 

Bravo  !  They  would  not  be  juggled  with  King  Charles, 
neither  will  their  descendants  be,  if  any  king  hereafter 
is  ever  rash  enough  to  try  his  "  imperial  "  notions  upon 
them.  That  day  is  past,  thanks  to  that  good  minister 
and  his  Cameronians.  I  gazed  upon  the  monument 
erected  to  these  worthies,  and  gratefully  remembered 
what  the  world  owes  to  them. 

We  stepped  into  a  stationer's  shop  there  and  met 
a  character.  One  side  of  the  shop  was  filled  with  the 
publications  of  the  Bible  Society,  the  other  with  drugs. 
"  A  strange  combination  this,"  I  remarked. 


256  Four-in-Hand  in  Britain, 

"  Weel,  man,  no  sae  bad.     Pheseek  for  the  body  an 
pheseek  for  the  soul.    Castor  oil  and  Bibles  no  sae  bad." 

Harry  and  I  laughed. 

"  Have  you  the  revised  edition  here  yet  ?  "  I  inquired. 

"  Na,  na,  the  auld  thing  here.  Nane  of  yer  new- 
fangled editions  of  the  Scripture  for  us.  But  I  hear 
they've  shortened  the  Lord's  Prayer.  Noo,  that's  na  a 
bad  thing  for  them  as  hae  to  get  up  early  in  the  morn- 
in's." 

He  was  an  original,  and  we  left  his  shop  smiling  at 
his  way  of  putting  things.  Scotland  is  the  land  of  odd 
characters. 


Sanquhar,  July  18. 

We  are  off  for  old  Cumnock,  the  entire  village  appar- 
ently out  to  see  the  start.  Sanquhar  on  the  moors  does 
not  seem  to  have  many  attractions,  but  last  evening  we 
had  one  of  our  pleasantest  walks.  There  is  a  fine  deep 
glen  hid  away  between  the  hills,  with  a  torrent  rushing 
through  it,  over  which  bridges  have  been  thrown.  We 
were  tempted  to  go  far  up  the  glen.  The  long  gloam- 
ing faded  away  into  darkness  and  we  had  a  weird  stroll 
home.  It  was  after  ten  o'clock  when  we  reached  the 
hotel.  This  may  be  taken  as  a  specimen  of  our  even- 
ings ;  there  is  always  the  long  walk  in  the  gloaming 
after  dinner,  which  may  be  noted  as  one  of  the  rare 
pleasures  of  the  day. 

Our  luncheon  to-day  could  not  be  excelled,  and  in 


School  Children.  257 

some  features  it  was  unique.  The  banks  of  Douglas 
Water  was  the  site  chosen.  The  stream  divides,  and  a 
green  island  looked  so  enchanting  that  the  committee 
set  about  planning  means  to  cross  to  it.  The  steps  of 
the  coach  formed  a  temporary  bridge  over  which  the 
ladies  were  safely  conducted,  but  not  without  some 
danger  of  a  spill.  As  many  as  thirty  school  children, 
then  enjoying  their  summer  vacation,  followed,  and  after 
a  while  ventured  to  fraternize  with  us.  Such  a  group  of 
rosy,  happy  little  ones  it  would  be  difBcult  to  meet  with 
out  of  Scotland.  Children  seem  to  flourish  without 
care  in  this  climate.  The  difference  between  the  chil- 
dren of  America  and  Britain  is  infinitely  greater  than 
that  between  the  adults  of  the  two  countries.  Scotch 
children  learn  to  pronounce  as  the  English  do  in  the 
schools,  but  in  their  play  the  ancient  Doric  comes  out 
in  full  force.  It  is  all  broad  Scotch  yet  in  conversation. 
This  will  no  doubt  change  in  time,  but  it  seemed  to  us 
that  so  far  they  have  lost  very  few  of  the  Scotch  Vv-ords 
and  none  of  the  accent.  We  asked  the  group  to  ap- 
point one  of  their  number  to  receive  some  money  to  buy 
'^  sweeties"  for  the  party.  Jeannie  Morrison  was  the 
lassie  proposed  and  unanimously  chosen.  Jeannie  was 
in  the  sixth  standard.  In  answer  to  an  inquiry,  it  was 
at  first  said  that  no  one  else  of  the  party  was  so  far  ad- 
vanced, but  a  moment's  consultation  resulted  in  a  prompt 
correction,  and  then  came :  '■'■  Aye,  Aggie  McDonald  is 
too."  But  not  one  of  the  laddies  was  beyond  the  fifth. 
17 


258  Four-in-Haiid  in  Britain. 

Well,  the  women  of  Scotland  always  were  superior  to 
the  men.  If  a  workingman  in  Scotland  does  not  get  a 
clever  managing  wife  (they  are  helpmeets  there),  he 
never  amounts  to  much,  and  many  a  stupid  man  pulls 
up  well  through  the  efforts  of  his  wife.  It  is  much  the 
same  in  France,  or,  indeed,  in  any  country  where  the 
struggle  for  existence  is  hard  and  expenditure  has  to  be 
kept  down  to  the  lowest  point — so  much  depends  upon 
the  woman  in  this  department. 

The  shyness  of  these  children  surprised  our  Ameri- 
cans much.  They  could  scarcely  be  induced  to  partake 
of  cakes  and  jelly,  which  must  be  rare  delicacies  with 
them.  I  created  a  laugh  by  insisting  that  even  after  I 
had  been  in  America  several  years  I  was  as  shy  as  any 
of  these  children.  My  friends  were  apparently  indisposed 
to  accept  such  an  assertion  entirely,  but  an  appeal  to 
Davie  satisfied  them  of  my  modesty  in  early  youth. 
"  Ah,  then  !  "  said  Miss  M.     But  this  was  cruel. 

We  left  some  rare  morsels  for  these  children.  When 
they  had  done  cheering  us  at  our  departure,  I  warrant 
they  "  were  nae  blate."  The  dear  little  innocent,  happy 
things !  I  wish  I  could  get  among  them  again.  What 
would  not  one  give  to  get  a  fresh  start,  to  be  put  back 
a  child  again,  that  he  might  make  such  a  record  as 
seems  possible  when  looking  backward  !  How  many 
things  he  would  do  that  he  did  not  do,  how  many  things 
he  would  not  do  that  he  did  do  !  I  sympathize  with 
Faust,  the  offer  was  too  tempting  to  be  successfully 


A  Pleasant  Meeting.  259 

withstood.  One  point  worth  noting  occurs  to  me.  In 
looking  back  you  never  feel  that  upon  any  occasion  you 
have  acted  too  generously,  but  you  often  regret  that 
you  did  not  give  enough,  and  sometimes  that  you  did 
not  give  at  all.  The  moral  seems  to  be — always  give 
the  higher  sum  or  do  the  most  when  in  doubt.  It  seems 
to  me  that  parents  and  others  having  charge  of  children 
might  do  more  than  is  done  to  teach  them  the  only  means 
of  making  life  worth  living,  and  to  point  out  to  them 
the  rocks  and  eddies  from  which  they  themselves  have 
suffered  damage  in  life's  passage. 

With  the  cheers  of  the  children  rfciging  in  our  ears 
we  started  on  our  way.  While  stopping  at  the  inn  to 
return  what  had  been  lent  us  in  the  way  of  baskets, 
pitchers,  etc.,  a  lady  drove  up  in  a  stylish  phaeton,  and, 
excusing  herself  for  intruding,  said  that  a  coach  was  so 
rarely  seen  in  those  parts  she  could  not  resist  asking  who 
we  were  and  whither  bound.  I  gave  her  all  desired  in- 
formation, and  asked  her  to  please  gratify  our  ladies  by 
telling  in  return  who  she  was.  "  Lady  Stuart  M."  was 
the  reply.  She  was  of  the  M.'s  of  Closeburn  Castle,  as 
we  learned  from  Mr.  Murray,  our  landlord  at  Cumnock. 
The  estate  will  go  at  her  death  to  a  nephew  who  is  farm- 
ing in  America.  We  thought  there  must  be  some  good 
reason  why  he  did  not  return  and  manage  for  his  aunt, 
who  indeed  seems  well  qualified  to  manage  for  herself. 
The  young  exiled  heir  had  our  sympathy,  but  long  may 
it  be  ere  he  enters  upon  Closeburn,  for  we  were  all  heart- 


26o  Four-in-Hand  hi  Britain. 

ily  in  favor  of  a  long  and  happy  reign  to  the  present 
ruler  of  that  beautiful  estate.  Lady  M.  assured  us  that 
we  would  be  well  taken  care  of  at  the  Dumfries  Arms, 
and  she  was  right.  Mr.  Murray  and  his  handsome  sisters 
will  long  be  remembered  as  model  hotel-keepers.  They 
made  our  stay  most  agreeable.  Mr.  Murray  took  us  to 
the  Bowling  Green  in  the  evening,  and  many  of  our 
party  saw  the  game  for  the  first  time.  Great  excitement 
prevails  when  the  sides  are  evenly  matched.  It  is,  like 
the  curling  pond,  a  perfect  republic.  There  is  no  rank 
upon  the  ice  or  upon  the  green  in  Scotland.  The  post- 
man will  berate  the  provost  for  bad  play  at  bowls,  but 
touch  his  hat  respectfully  to  him  on  the  pavement.  A 
man  may  be  even  a  provost  and  yet  not  up  to  giving 
them  a  "Yankee"  Avhen  called  for.  We  were  curious  to 
know  what  a  "Yankee"  shot  was,  for  we  heard  it  called 
for  by  the  captains  every  now  and  then.  We  were  told 
that  this  was  a  shot  which  "  knocked  all  before  it,  and 
played  the  very  deevil."     That  is  not  bad. 

While  a  few  of  us  who  had  recently  seen  the  land  of 
Burns  remained  at  Cumnock,  the  remainder  of  the  party 
drove  to  Ayr  and  saw  all  the  sights  there  and  returned 
in  the  evening.  Our  walks  about  Cumnock  were  delight- 
ful, and  we  left  Mr.  Murray's  care  with  sincere  regret. 


Old  Cumnock,  July  19. 
Passing  out  of  the  town  this  morning,  we  stopped  at 
the  prettiest  little  photographic  establishment  we  had 


Our  Photograph.  261 

ever  seen,  and  the  artist  succeeded  in  taking  excellent 
views  of  the  coach  and  party,  as  the  reader  may  see  by 
a  glance  at  the  frontispiece,  where  the  original  negative 
is  reproduced  by  the  artotype  process.  It  was  done  in 
an  instant ;  we  were  taken  ere  we  were  aware.  A  great 
thing,  that  instantaneous  photography ;  one  has  not 
time  to  look  his  very  worst,  as  sitters  usually  contrive 
to  do,  ladies  especially.  It  is  so  hard  to  be  artificial 
and  yet  look  pretty. 

"  Right,  Perry  !  "  and  off  we  drove  through  the  crowd 
for  Douglas.  The  General  Manager  soon  confided  to 
me  that  for  the  first  time  he  was  dubious  about  our 
resting-place  for  the  night.  A  telegram  had  been  re- 
ceived by  him  from  the  landlord  at  Douglas  just  before 
starting,  stating  that  the  inn  was  full  to  overflowing 
with  ofificers  of  the  volunteer  regiment  encamped  there, 
and  that  it  was  impossible  for  him  to  provide  for  our 
party.  What  was  to  be  done  ?  It  was  decided  to  in- 
form that  important  personage,  mine  host,  that  we  were 
moving  upon  him,  and  that  if  he  gave  no  quarters  we 
should  give  none  either.  He  must  billet  us  somewhere  ; 
if  not,  then 

"  A  night  in  greenwood  spent 
Were  but  to-morrow's  merriment." 

But  we  felt  quite  sure  that  the  town  of  Douglas 
would  in  council  assembled  extend  a  warm  welcome  to 
the  Americans  and  see  us  safely  housed,  even  if  there 


262  Four-in-Ha7id  171  Britain. 

were  not  a  hotel  in  the  place.  So  on  we  went.  While 
passing  through  Lugar,  a  pretty  young  miss  ran  out  of 
the  telegraph  ofifice,  and  holding  up  both  hands,  called : 
"  Stop  !  It's  no  aff  yet  !  it's  no  aff  yet !  "  A  message  was 
coming  for  the  coaching  party.  It  proved  to  be  from 
our  Douglas  landlord,  saying,  All  right !  he  would  do 
the  best  he  could  for  us.  When  the  party  was  informed 
how  much  we  had  been  trusting  in  Providence  for  the 
past  few  hours,  such  was  their  enthusiasm  that  some  dis- 
appointment was  expressed  at  the  reassuring  character 
of  the  telegram.  Not  to  know  where  we  were  going  to 
be  all  night — may  be  to  have  to  lie  in  and  on  the  coach 
— would  have  been  such  fun !  But  "  Behind  yon  hill 
where  Lugar  flows,"  sung  by  Eliza,  sounded  none  the 
less  sweet  when  we  knew  we  were  not  likely  to  have  to 
camp  out  upon  its  pretty  banks.  It  is  essential  for 
successful  happy  coaching  with  ladies  that  every  com- 
fort should  be  provided.  I  am  satisfied  it  would  never 
do  to  risk  the  weaker  sex  coaching  in  any  other  land. 
The  extreme  comfort  of  everything  here  alone  keeps 
them  well  and  able  to  stand  the  gypsy  life. 

We  travelled  most  of  the  day  among  the  ore  lands  and 
blast  furnaces  of  the  Scotch  pig-iron  kings,  the  Bairds. 
To  reach  Edinburgh  we  had  to  drive  diagonally  east- 
ward across  the  country,  for  we  had  gone  to  the  west- 
ward that  Dumfries  and  the  Land  of  Burns  might  not 
be  missed.  This  route  took  us  through  less  frequented 
locahties,  off  the  main  lines  of  travel,  but  our  experience 


Scotch   Weather.  263 

justified  us  in  feeling  that  this  had  proved  a  great  ad- 
vantage, for  we  saw  more  of  Scotland  than  we  should 
have  done  otherwise. 

Our  luncheon  to-day  was  a  novel  one  in  some  re- 
spects. No  inn  was  to  be  reached  upon  the  moors,  and 
feed  for  the  horses  had  to  be  taken  with  us  from  Cum- 
nock ;  but  we  found  the  prettiest  little  wimpling  burn, 
across  which  a  passage  was  made  by  throwing  in  big 
stones,  for  the  shady  dell  was  upon  the  far  side.  The 
horses  were  unhitched  and  allowed  to  nibble  the  way- 
side grass  beside  our  big  coach,  which  loomed  up  on  the 
moor  as  if  it  were  double  its  true  size. 

The  thistle  and  the  harebell  begin  to  deck  our  grassy 
tables  at  noon,  and  fine  fields  of  peas  and  beans  scent 
the  air.  All  is  Scotch ;  and  oh,  that  bracing  breeze, 
which  cools  deliciously  the  sun's  bright  rays,  confirms 
us  in  the  opinion  that  no  weather  is  like  Scotch  weath-er, 
when  it  is  good  ;  when  it  is  not  I  have  no  doubt  the 
same  opinion  is  equally  correct,  but  we  have  no  means 
of  judging.  Scotland  smiles  upon  her  guests,,  and  we 
love  her  with  true  devotion  in  return.  *'  What  do  you 
think  of  Scotland  noo?"  came  often  to-day;  but  words 
cannot  express  what  we  do  think  of  her.  In  the  lan- 
guage of  one  of  our  young  ladies,  "  She  is  just  lovely  !" 

The  question  came  up  to-day  at  luncheon,  would  one 
ever  tire  of  this  gypsy  life?  and  it  was  unanimously 
voted  never!  At  least  no  one  could  venture  to  name  a 
time  when  he  would  be  ready  to  return  to  the  prosy  rou- 


264  Four-in-Hand  in  Britain. 

tine  of  ordinary  existence  while  blessed  with  such  weathef 
and  such  company.  Indeed,  this  nomadic  life  must  be 
the  hardest  of  all  to  exchange  for  city  life.  It  is  so  dia- 
metrically opposed  to  it  in  every  phase.  "  If  I  were  not 
the  independent  gentleman  I  am,"  says  Lamb,  "  I 
should  choose  to  be  a  beggar."  "Chapsey  me  a  gypsy," 
gentle  Elia,  you  could  not  have  known  of  that  life,  or 
perhaps  you  considered  it  and  the  beggar's  life  identical. 
But,  mark  you,  there  is  a  difference  which  is  much  more 
than  a  distinction.  A  gypsy  cannot  beg,  but  he  or  she 
tells  fortunes,  tinkers  a  little  and  deals  in  horses.  Even 
if  he  steals  a  little  now  and  then,  I  take  it  he  is  still  within 
the  lines  of  the  profession ;  while  your  beggar  who  does 
anything  in  the  way  of  work,  or  who  steals,  is  no  true 
man.  His  license  is  for  begging  only.  The  gypsy  ob- 
viously has  the  wider  range,  and  I  say  again,  therefore, 
"  Chapsey  me  a  gypsy,"  gentle  Elia. 

Davie  and  I  walked  over  to  the  railway  line  after 
luncheon  to  have  a  talk  with  the  surfacemen  we  saw  at 
work.  They  were  strong,  stalwart  men,  and  possessed 
of  that  shrewd,  solid  sense  which  is  invariably  found  in 
Scotch  workmen.  Their  pay  seemed  very  small  to  us; 
the  foreman  got  only  twenty  shillings  per  week  ($5), 
while  the  ordinary  surfaceman  got  fourteen  shillings 
(S3- 50).  Although  this  was  only  a  single-track  branch 
line,  it  was  almost  as  well  laid  as  the  Pennsylvania  Rail- 
road. None  of  the  men  had  ever  been  in  America, 
but  several  had  relatives  there   who  were   doing  well, 


Home  Castle.  265 

and  they  looked  forward  to  trying  the  new  land  some 
day. 

We  reached  pretty  Douglas  in  the  evening,  and 
sounded  our  horn  longer  than  usual  to  apprize  mine  host 
that  the  host  was  upon  him.  We  were  greatly  pleased 
to  see  him  and  his  good  wife  standing  in  the  door  of  the 
inn  with  pleasant,  smiling  faces  to  greet  us.  They  had 
arranged  everything  for  our  comfort.  Many  thanks  to 
those  gentlemanly  officers  who  had  so  kindly  given  up 
their  rooms  to  accommodate  their  American  cousins. 
Quarters  for  the  gentlemen  had  been  found  in  the  vil- 
lage, and  Joe  and  Perry  and  the  horses  were  all  well 
taken  care  of.  Thus  we  successfully  passed  through 
the  only  occasion  where  there  seemed  to  be  the  slightest 
difficulty  about  our  resting-place  for  the  night. 

'Douglas,  the  ancient  seat  of  that  family  so  noted 
in  Scotland's  history,  is  really  worth  a  visit.  Home 
Castle,  their  residence,  is  a  commanding  pile  seen  for 
many  miles  up  the  valley  as  we  approach  the  town. 
Our  visit  to  it  was  greatly  enjoyed,  we  had  such  a 
pretty  walk  in  the  evening,  and  a  rest  on  the  slope 
of  the  hill  overlooking  the  castle.  We  lay  there  in 
the  grass  and  enjoyed  the  quiet  Scotch  gloaming 
which  was  gathering  round  us,  and  so  silently,  so  slowly 
shutting  in  the  scene.  The  castle  upon  the  left  below 
us,  the  Douglas  water  so  placidly  gliding  through  the 
valley  at  our  feet,  the  old  church  where  lay  moulder- 
ing generations  of  the  Douglases,  and  the  dark  woods 


266  Four-i7i-Ha7id  in  Britain. 

beyond,  formed  a  picture  which  kept  us  long  upon 
the  hill. 

In  their  day,  what  bustling  men  were  these  doughty 
Douglases — full  of  sturt  and  strife — the  very  ideal  repre- 
sentatives of  the  warrior  bold,  who  made  their  way  and 
held  their  own  by  the  strength  of  their  good  right  arms, 

"  A  steede,  a  steede  of  matchless  speede, 
A  sword  of  metal  keene. 
All  else  to  noble  minds  is  dross, 
All  else  on  earth  is  meane  ;  ' 

And  O  the  thundering  press  of  knights, 
When  loud  their  war  cries  swell, 
Might  serve  to  call  a  saint  from  heaven 
Or  rouse  a  fiend  from  helle." 

This  was  their  ideal — the  very  reverse,  thank  God,  of  the 
ideal  of  to-day — but  note  how  peacefully  they  lie  now 
in  the  little  antiquated  church  in  this  obscure  valley. 
What  shadows  we  are  !  What  shadows  we  pursue !  This 
vein  once  started  in  the  Scotch  gloaming  upon  the  hills, 
where  the  coloring  of  the  scene  is  so  sombre  as  to  be  not 
only  seen  but  felt,  must  be  indulged  in  sparingly,  or  some 
of  the  Charioteers  might  soon  have  to  record  a  new  ex- 
perience— a  fit  of  the  blues.  But  this  was  prevented  by 
comparing  the  advance  made  by  the  race  upon  this 
question  of  war  within  the  past  century.  The  '/  pro- 
fession of  arms  "  is  very  soon  to  be  rated  as  it  deserves. 
The  apology  for  it  will  be  the  same  as  for  any  other 
of  the  butchering  trades — it  is  necessary.     Granted  for 


Epitaphs.  267 

the  present,  but  what  of  the  nature  which  selects  such 
a  profession ! 

The  inscriptions  upon  the  tombs  of  the  Douglases  re- 
called other  epitaphs ;  some  one  said  of  all  the  inscrip- 
tions yet  seen,  he  thought  that  upon  the  tomb  of  the 
Duke  of  Devonshire  gave  us  the  best  lesson. 
It  runs  thus: 

"  Who  lyeth  heare  ? 
Ye  gude  Yearle  of  Devenshere — 
What  he  had  is  gone, 
What  he  kept  is  lost, 
What  he  gave — that  he  hath." 

We  were  on  the  verge  of  moralizing.  Some  one 
scenting  the  danger,  said  he  thought  an  equally  sugges- 
tive epitaph  headed  one  of  the  chapters  of  "  David  El- 
ginbrod  " : 

"  Here  lies  David  Elginbrod, 
Hae  mercy  on  his  soul,  oh  God  ! 
As  he'd  a-had,  had  he  been  God, 
An  ye'd  been  David  Elginbrod." 

Yes,  there  is  food  for  thought  here  too.  David  must 
have  been  a  queer  one. 

The  sky  grew  darker,  and  the  far-off  woods  faded  into 
a  cloud  upon  the  horizon  ;  the  party  rose,  and  in  so  do- 
ing regained  their  usual  hilarity — forgot  all  about  tombs 
and  were  off  for  a  run  hand-in-hand  down  the  gentle 
slope  to  the  valley,  shouting  and  laughing  in  great  glee — 
and  so  on  over  the  pretty  bridge  to  their  delightful  inn. 


268  Four-in-Hand  in  Britain. 

Douglas,  July  20. 
Edinburgh,  Scotia's  darling  scat,  only  forty-four  miles 
distant.  All  aboard,  this  pretty  morning,  for  Edin- 
burgh !  "  Right,  Perry !"  and  off  we  went  quite  early 
through  Douglas,  for  the  capital.  Our  path  was 
through  woods  for  several  miles,  and  we  listened  to 
the  birds  and  saw  and  heard  many  of  the  incidents  of 
morn  so  prettily  described  by  Beattie : 

"  The  wild  brook  babbling  down  the  mountain-side. 
The  lowing  herd  ;  the  sheep-fold's  simple  bell  ; 
The  hum  of  bees,  and  linnet's  lay  of  love, 
And  the  full  choir  that  wakes  the  universal  grove." 

It  was  to  be  a  long  day's  drive,  but  an  easy  one ; 
only  one  hill,  and  then  a  gradual  descent  all  the  way 
to  Edinburgh.  So  it  might  have  been  by  the  other 
road,  but  the  mile-stones  which  told  us  so  many  miles 
to  Edinburgh  should  also  have  said :  *'  Take  the  new 
road  ;  this  is  the  old  one,  over  the  hills  and  far  away." 
But  they  did  not,  and  we  could  not  be  wrong,  for 
this  was  a  way,  if  not  the  way,  to  "Auld  Reekie." 
After  all,  it  was  one  of  the  richest  of  our  experiences 
as  we  look  back  upon  it  now.  So  many  hills  to  walk 
up  and  so  many  to  walk  down  ;  so  many  moors  with 
not  a  house  to  be  seen,  nothing  but  sheep  around  us 
and  the  lights  and  shadows  of  a  Scotch  sky  overhead. 
But  it  was  grand,  and  recalled  some  of  Black's  wonder- 
ful pen  pictures.  And  then  we  enjoyed  the  heather 
which  we  found    in    its    beauty,  though    scarcely    yet 


Sheep  and  Collies.  269 

tinted  with  its  richest  glow  of  color.  This  was  our 
introduction  to  it.  The  heathery  moor  was  new  to 
most  of  the  party  and  many  were  the  exclamations  pro- 
duced by  its  beauty.  There's  "  meat  and  drink  "  to  a 
Scotchman  in  the  scent  of  the  heather. 

About  luncheon  time  we  began  to  look  longingly 
for  the  expected  inn,  but  there  was  no  habitation 
to  be  seen,  and  we  became  suspicious  that,  notwith- 
standing the  mile-stones,  which  stood  up  and  told  us  the 
lie  which  was  half  the  truth  (ever  the  blacker  lie),  we 
were  not  upon  the  right  road  to  Edinburgh.  At  this 
juncture  we  met  a  shepherd  with  his  collies,  and  learnt 
from  him  that  we  were  still  twelve  miles  from  an  inn. 
It  was  a  cool,  breezy  day ;  the  air  had  the  "  nip  "  in  it 
which  Maggie  missed  so  in  England,  and  we  were  fam- 
ishing. There  was  nothing  else  to  do  but  to  stop  where 
we  were,  at  the  pretty  burn,  and  tarry  there  for  enter- 
tainment for  man  and  beast. 

As  proof  of  our  temperance,  please  note  that  the 
flasks  filled  with  sherry,  whiskey,  and  brandy,  at  Brigh- 
ton, I  believe,  as  reserve  forces  for  emergencies,  still  had 
plenty  in  them  when  called  for  to-day  ;  and  rarely  has  a 
glass  of  spirits  done  greater  good,  the  ladies  as  well  as 
v/e  of  the  stronger  sex  feeling  that  a  glass  was  necessary 
to  keep  ofT  a  chill.  We  were  *'  o'er  the  moors  among  the 
heather  "  in  good  earnest  to-day,  but  how  soon  we  were 
all  set  to  rights  and  laughing  over  our  frolic  !  The  shep- 
herd and  his  dogs  lunched  with  us,  and  many  a  glint  of 


270  Four 'in- Hand  in  Britain. 

Scottish  shepherd  life  did  we  get  from  his  conversation. 
He  was  a  happy,  contented  man,  and  ever  so  grateful 
that  he  was  not  condemned  to  live  in  a  city.  He 
thought  such  a  cramped-up  life  would  soon  kill  him. 

Good-bye,  my  gentle  shepherd  and  "  Tweed  "  and 
"  Rab,"  your  faithful,  sagacious  companions.  Your  life 
leads  to  contentment,  and  where  will  you  find  that  jewel 
when  you  leave  mother  earth  and  her  products,  her 
heather  and  her  burns,  your  doggies  and  your  sheep  ? 

Davie,  in  Andrew  M 's   absence,    sang   us   that 

song  whose  prettiest  verse,  though  all  are  fine,  is  this  : 

"  See  yonder  paukie  shepherd 
Wha  lingers  on  the  hill, 
His  ewes  are  in  the  fauld 
And  his  sheep  are  lying  still." 

Softly,  softly,  pianissimo,  my  boy!  These  lines 
must  be  sung  so,  not  loudly  like  the  other  verses. 
Andrew  knows  the  touch. 

"  But  he  downa  gang  to  rest, 
For  his  heart  is  in  a  flame 
To  meet  his  bonnie  lassie, 
When  the  kye  come  hame." 

And  so  we  parted  from  our  shepherd,  the  chorus  of 
our  song  reaching  him  over  the  moors  till  he  faded  out 
of  sight.  I  am  sure  we  wish  him  week  Happiness  is 
not  all  in  the  higher  walks  of  life ;  and  surely  in  vir- 
tue's paths  the  cottage  leaves  the  palace  far  behind. 


Arthur  s  Seat.  271 

Another  song  followed,  which  I  thought  equally  ap- 
propriate, for  it  tells  us  that  "  Ilka  blade  o'  grass  keps 
its  ain  drap  o'  dew."  Ah,  the  shepherd's  drops  of  the 
dew  of  life  are  often  what  princes  vainly  sigh  for. 

After  many  miles  up  and  down,  we  finally  reached 
the  top  of  the  hill  from  which  we  saw  lying  before  us, 
fourteen  miles  away,  the  modern  Athens.  There  was 
no  mistaking  Arthur's  Seat,  the  lion  crouching  there. 
"  Stop,  Perry  !  "  Three  times  three  for  the  "  Queen  of 
the  Unconquered  North !  "  ''  What  do  you  think  of 
Scotland  noo  ?  "  Match  that  city  who  can  !  Not  on 
this  planet  will  you  do  it,  search  where  you  may. 

It  was  only  a  few  miles  from  where  we  now  stood 
that  Fitz  Eustace,  enraptured  with  the  scene, 

"  And  making  demi-volte  in  air, 
Cried,  Where's  the  coward  that  would  not  dare 
To  fight  for  such  a  land  ! " 

Fight  for  it  ?  I  guess  so,  to  the  death  !  Scotland 
forever ! 

We  were  about  completing  one  stage  of  our  journey, 
for  Edinburgh  had  been  looked  forward  to  as  one  of  the 
principal  points  we  had  to  reach,  and  we  were  to  rest 
there  a  few  days  before  marching  upon  the  more  ancient 
metropolis,  Dunfermline.  Most  of  us  had  been  steadily 
at  work  since  we  left  Brighton,  and  the  prospect  of  a 
few  days'  respite  was  an  agreeable  one ;  but  after  all  it 
was  surprising  how  fresh  even  the  ladies  were.     Still, 


2/2  Four-in-Hand  in  Britain. 

steady  coaching  is  pretty  hard  work ;  none  of  us  gained 
weight  during  the  journey,  but  we  all  felt  as  if  in  con- 
dition just  fit  to  do  our  very  best  in  the  way  of  athletic 
exercise. 

Miss  R ,  a  native  of  Edinburgh,  was  here  called 

to  the  front,  alongside  of  Perry,  to  act  as  guide  into  and 
through  the  city  to  our  hotel  in  Prince's  Street.  The 
enthusiasm  grew  more  and  more  intense  as  we  came 
nearer  and  fresh  views  were  obtained.  There  remained 
one  more  toll-gate,  one  of  the  few  which  have  not  yet 
been  abolished.  Joe  had  as  usual  gone  forward  to  pay 
the  toll,  but  the  keeper  declared  she  did  not  know  the 
charge,  as  never  since  she  kept  toll  had  anything  like 
that — pointing  to  the  coach — passed  there.  Was  it  any 
wonder  that  we  attracted  attention  during  our  progress 
northward  ? 

From  one  hill-top  I  caught  sight  of  the  sparkling 
Forth,  beyond  which  lay  "  the  dearest  spot  on  earth  to 
me."  The  town  could  not  be  seen,  but  when  I  was  able 
to  cry,  "■  DunfermHne  lies  there,"  three  rousing  cheers 
were  given  for  the  "  Auld  gray  Toon,"  my  native  city. 


Edinburgh,  July  21-26. 
Our  route  lay  through  Newington,  that  we  might 
leave  the  young  artist  at  home.  We  tried  to  do  it 
quietly,  but  our  friend  Mrs.  H.  was  out  and  shaking 
hands  with  us  ere  we  could  drive  off.  Mr.  MacGregor,  of 
the  Royal,  had  been  mindful  of  us  ;  a  grand  sitting  room 


Edinburgh,  273 

fronting  on  Prince's  Street  and  overlooking  the  gardens 
gave  us  the  best  possible  view,  the  very  choice  spot  of 
all  this  choice  city.  The  night  was  beautiful,  and  the 
lights  from  the  towering  houses  of  the  old  town  made 
an  illumination,  as  it  were,  in  honor  of  our  arrival.  That 
the  travellers  were  delighted  with  Edinburgh,  that  it 
more  than  fulfilled  all  expectations,  is  to  say  but  little ; 
and  those  who  saw  it  for  the  first  time  felt  it  to  be  be- 
yond all  that  they  had  imagined.  Those  of  us  who 
knew  its  picturesque  charms  were  more  than  ever  im- 
pressed with  its  superiority  over  all  other  cities.  Take 
my  word  for  it,  my  readers,  there  is  no  habitation  of 
human  beings  in  this  world  as  fine  in  its  way,  and  its 
way  itself  is  fine,  as  this,  the  capital  of  Scotland. 

The  surprise  and  delight  of  my  friends  gave  me  much 
pleasure.  Scotland  had  already  won  all  hearts.  They 
had  admired  England,  but  Scotland  they  loved.  Ah, 
how  could  they  help  it !  I  loved  her  too,  more  deeply 
than  ever. 

It  is  best  to  disband  a  large  party  when  in  a  city 
possessed  of  many  and  varied  attractions,  allowing  each 
little  group  to  see  the  sights  in  its  own  way  ;  assembling, 
however,  at  breakfast  and  dinner,  and  spending  the  even- 
ings together,  recounting  the  day's  adventures.  This 
was  the  general  order  issued  for  Edinburgh. 

The  new  docks  at  Leith  were  opened  with  much  cer- 
emony during  our  stay,  and  I  took  a  party  of  our  Edin- 
burgh friends  upon  the  coach  to  witness  the  opening.  It 
18 


2  74  Four-m-Hand  in  Britain. 

was  not  a  clear  day,  meteorologically  considered,  but 
nevertheless  it  was  a  happy  one  for  the  coaching  party. 
Upon  our  return,  a  stop  at  Mr.  N.'s  magnificent  resi- 
dence was  specially  agreeable.  He  and  his  daughters 
were  most  kind  to  us  while  in  Edinburgh.  Mr.  N.  gave 
us  a  rare  treat  by  showing  us  through  their  immense 
printing  establishment,  where  such  exquisite  things  are 
done,  such  Easter  and  Christmas  cards,  such  friendship 
tokens,  and  a  thousand  other  lovely  forms  we  had  never 
seen  before,  in  their  various  stages  of  manufacture. 

I  asked  Mr.  N.  what  he  had  to  say  in  reply  to  the 
admissions  of  the  leading  art  authorities  of  the  superior- 
ity of  American  work  in  black  and  white,  such  as  our 
magazines  excel  in.  He  said  this  could  not  be  ques- 
tioned ;  there  was  nothing  done  in  British  publications 
that  equalled  the  American.  The  reason  he  gave  fur- 
nishes food  for  thought.  I  pray  you,  fellow  country- 
men, take  note  of  it.  Two  principal  American  illus- 
trated magazines.  Harper  s  and  the  Century,  print  each 
more  than  one  hundred  thousand  copies,  while  no  Brit- 
ish magazine  prints  half  that  number.  The  American 
publisher  can  consequently  afford  to  pay  twice  as  much 
as  the  British  publisher  for  his  illustrations.  If  this  be 
the  true  reason  of  America's  superiority  in  this  respect, 
and  I  am  sure  Mr.  N.  knows  what  he  is  stating,  then  as 
its  population  increases  more  rapidly  than  the  British 
the  difference  between  their  respective  publications  must 
increase,  and  finally  drive  the  home  article  into  a  very 


Valuable  Importations.  275 

restricted  position.  Pursuing  this  fact  to  its  logical  con- 
clusion, Britain  may  soon  receive  from  her  giant  child 
all  that  is  best  in  any  department  of  art  which  depends 
upon  general  support  for  success.  This  seems  to  me  to 
betoken  a  revolution,  not  as  implying  the  inherent  supe- 
riority of  the  American,  but  simply  flowing  from  the  fact 
that  fifty-five  millions  of  English-speaking  and  reading 
people  can  afford  to  spend  more  for  any  certain  article 
than  thirty-five  millions  can.  That  Colonel  Mapleson 
now  brings  over  Her  Majesty's  Opera  Company  for  the 
New  York  season  as  regularly  as  he  opens  his  London 
season,  and  especially  that  he  makes  far  more  profit  out 
of  the  former  than  out  of  the  latter,  is  another  significant 
fact.  That  leading  actors  find  a  wider  field  here  than  at 
home  is  still  another,  and  even  ministers  are  finding  that 
the  call  of  the  Lord  to  higher  labors  and  higher  salaries 
often  comes  from  the  far  side  of  the  Atlantic.  Drs. 
McCosh,  Hall,  Ormiston,  and  Taylor,  our  leading  divines, 
get  treble  salaries  in  the  Republic,  and  are  said  to  be 
valuable  importations.  As  Mr.  Evarts  said  one  night  in 
a  post-prandial  effort :  "  They  are  about  the  only  speci- 
mens of  'the  cloth'  admitted  duty  free."  As  long  as 
America  sent  Britain  only  pork  and  cheese  and  provi- 
sions, and  such  products  of  the  soil,  it  was  all  well 
enough,  but  if  she  is  beginning  to  send  the  highest 
things  of  life,  the  art  treasures,  which  give  sweetness 
and  light  to  human  existence,  it  is  somewhat  alarming. 
For  my  part,  I  do  not  like  to  think  that  these  Ameri- 


276  Four-m-Ha7id  in  Britain. 

cans  are  to  send  Britain  every  good  thing,  and  that  the 
once  proud  country  that  led  the  world  is  to  stand  receiv- 
ing as  it  were  the  crumbs  from  this  rich  land's  table.  In 
one  department  America  can  be  kept  second  for  as  long 
a  term  as  we  need  worry  about — she  has  nothing  to 
compare  with  the  leading  English  reviews.  Our  gen- 
eration will  see  no  close  rival  to  the  Fortnightly  or  the 
Nineteenth  Century,  to  Blackwood  or  Chambers  Journal, 
or  to  the  Edinburgh  or  Westminster  Review ;  although 
the  North  American  and  the  International  show  that 
even  in  this  race  America  enters  two  not  indifferent 
steeds. 

I  must  not  forget  to  mention  that  the  birds  in  the 
Century  magazine  which  the  AthencBuni  pronounced  so 
far  superior  to  any  British  work  were  designed  by  a 
young  lady  and  engraved  by  her  sister.  The  work  of 
two  American  young  ladies  excelled  the  best  of  Eng- 
land;  and  then  did  not  Miss  Rosina  Emmet  send  a 
Christmas  greeting  of  her  own  composition  to  friends  in 
England  which  took  the  second  prize  at  the  London 
Exhibition,  although  not  intended  for  anything  more 
than  a  private  token  of  friendship.  Let  a  note  be  made 
of  all  this,  with  three  loving  cheers  for  the  young  lady 
artists  of  the  Republic.  Instead  of  losing  the  charms 
of  women  by  giving  public  expression  to  their  love  of 
the  beautiful  in  all  its  forms,  they  but  add  one  more  in- 
describable charm  which  their  less  fortunate  sisters  can 
never  hope  to  attain.     How  a  man  does  reverence  a 


On  a    Yacht.  277 

woman  who  does  fine  things  in  art,  literature,  or  music, 
or  in  any  Hne  whatever ! 

The  Charioteers  gave  leave  of  absence  to  the  Scribe 
and  General  Manager  to  spend  Sunday  with  my  friends 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  G.,  at  Strathairly  House,  on  the  banks  of 
the  Forth.  It  was  a  most  delightful  visit.  The  Com- 
modore of  the  Forth  Yachting  Squadron  (for  such  Mr. 
G.  is)  had  the  Ranee  ready  to  take  us  back  to  Edin- 
burgh Monday  morning.  We  enjoyed  the  sail  down 
the  Forth  very  much.  That  we  could  not  accept  the 
Commodore's  invitation  to  change  the  Gay  Char- 
ioteers into  Bold  Mariners  for  a  day  and  visit  St. 
Andrews  in  the  Ranee  gave  rise  to  deep  regret,  when 
the  other  members  of  the  party  were  informed  of  the 
treat  proposed  ;  but  we  cannot  glean  every  field  upon 
our  march.  Some  other  time.  Commodore,  the  recently 
elected  member  of  the  squadron  will  report  for  duty  on 
the  flagship  and  splice  the  main  brace  with  you  and 
your  jolly  crew.  There  is  a  craze  for  yachting  in  Brit- 
ain, which  is  also  showing  its  symptoms  on  this  side.  I 
am  not  at  home  in  vessels  much  smaller  than  an  Atlantic 
steamer.  The  Charioteers  resolved  unanimously  that 
their  yacht  should  have  four  wheels  and  four  horses,  and 
should  run  on  land. 

Upon  our  return  to  Edinburgh  Monday  morning, 
the  first  rumbling  of  the  distant  thunder  from  Dunferm- 
line was  heard,  and  it  dawned  upon  us  that  serious  work 
was  at  hand.     Our  friend   Mr.  D.,  of  the  Council,  had 


278  Four-i7i-Hand  171  Britain, 

called  upon  us  and  intimated  that  something  of  a 
demonstration  might  be  made  upon  our  arrival  in  my 
native  town  ;  but  when  I  found  a  telegram  from  Mr. 
Simpson,  the  clerk,  asking  us  to  postpone  our  coming 
for  a  day,  I  knew  there  was  an  end  to  play.  Things 
looked  serious,  but  I  was  not  going  to  be  the  sole  suf- 
ferer. At  dinner  I  laid  it  down  as  the  law  from  which 
there  could  be  no  appeal,  that  if  any  public  speaking 
were  to  be  done,  Messrs.  P.,  McC,  K.,  the  General 
Manager,  and  V.,  were  in  for  it.  It  is  surprising 
how  much  it  mitigates  one's  own  troubles  to  see  his 
dearest  friends  more  frightened  than  himself.  I  grew 
bolder  as  I  encouraged  these  victims.  Their  speeches 
were  bound  to  be  hits — no  speeches  have  so  often  cre- 
ated sensations  as  maiden  efforts.  The  last  two  offered 
great  inducements  to  the  ladies  if  they  would  vote  that 
they  should  be  excused.  As  for  the  others,  I  made  it  a 
question  of  ministerial  confidence,  and  the  administra- 
tion was  sustained.  If  you  read  their  speeches  I  am 
sure  you  will  see  the  wisdom  of  my  selections. 

I  was  glad  to  see  Sir  Noel  Paton,  Dunfermline's  most 
distinguished  son,  able  to  be  at  his  sister's  that  evening. 
The  recent  narrow  and  heroic  escape  from  drowning  of 
himself.  Lady  Paton,  and  his  son  Victor,  gave  us  all 
renewed  interest  in  grasping  his  hand  again.  Thrown 
from  a  small  sail-boat  into  the  sea,  at  least  two  hundred 
yards  from  shore,  with  ropes  and  sail  tangled  about 
them,  the  three  rallied  to  each  other's  support  (for  all 


Dunfermline,  2  79 

could  swim),  and  bore  each  other  up  until  finally  Lady 
Paton  got  between  her  husband  and  son,  with  one  hand 
on  the  shoulder  of  each,  and  thus  they  struggled  grandly 
to  shore.  Where  is  another  trio  that  could  do  that, 
think  you  ?  I  tell  you,  who  don't  know  Dunfermline, 
that  these  Patons  were  always  a  marked  family,  and 
have  had  genius  hovering  about  their  pretty  home  for 
generations,  and  now  and  then  touching  the  heads  and 
hearts  of  father,  sons,  and  daughters  with  its  creative 
wand.  There  is  a  great  deal  in  blood,  no  doubt,  but  the 
blood  from  an  honest  weaver  or  shoemaker  is,  as  a  rule, 
a  much  better  article,  something  to  be  much  prouder  of, 
than  you  find  from  nobles  whose  rise  came  from  such 
conduct  as  should  make  their  descendants  ashamed  to 
talk  of  descent.  It's  a  God's  mercy  we  are  all  from 
honest  w^eavers ;  let  us  pity  those  who  haven't  ancestors 
of  whom  they  can  be  proud,  dukes  or  duchesses  though 
they  be. 


Dunfermline,  July  27-28, 
Put  all  the  fifty  days  of  our  journey  together,  and 
we  would  have  exchanged  them  all  for  rainy  ones  if  we 
could  have  been  assured  a  bright  day  for  this  occasion. 
It  came,  a  magnificent  day.  The  sun  shone  forth  as  if 
glad  to  shine  upon  this  the  most  memorable  day  of  my 
mother's  life  or  of  mine,  as  far  as  days  can  be  rendered 
memorable  by  the  actions  of  our  fellow-men.  We  left 
Edinburgh  and  reached  Queensferry  in  time  for  the  noon 


28o  Four-in-Hajid  in  Britain. 

boat.  Here  was  the  scene  so  finely  given  in  "  Marmion," 
which  I  tried,  however,  in  vain  to  recall  as  I  gazed  upon 
it.  If  Dunfermline  and  its  thunders  had  not  been  in  the 
distance,  I  think  I  could  have  given  it  after  a  fashion, 
but  I  failed  altogether  that  morning. 

"  But  northward  far,  with  purer  blaze, 
On  Ochil  mountains  fell  the  rays, 
And  as  each  heathy  top  they  kissed, 
It  gleamed  a  purple  amethyst. 
Yonder  the  shores  of  Fife  you  saw, 
Here  Preston  Bay,  and  Berwick  Law ; 
And  broad  between  them  rolled, 
The  gallant  Firth  the  eye  might  note. 
Whose  islands  on  its  bosom  float, 
Like  emeralds  chased  in  gold." 

And  truly  it  was  a  morning  in  which  nature's  jewels 
sparkled  at  their  best.  Upon  reaching  the  north  shore 
we  were  warmly  greeted  by  Uncle  and  Aunt,  and  Maggie 
and  Annie.  It  was  decided  better  not  to  risk  luncheon 
in  the  ruins  of  Rosythe  Castle,  as  we  had  intended,  the 
grass  being  reported  damp  from  recent  rains.  We  ac- 
cordingly drove  to  the  inn,  but  we  were  met  at  the  door 
by  the  good  landlady,  who,  with  uplifted  hands,  ex- 
claimed :  "  I'm  a'  alane!  There's  naebody  in  the  house  ! 
They're  a'  awa'  to  Dunfermline  !  There'll  be  great  goings 
on  there  the  day." 

A  hotel  without  one  servant.  The  good  woman, 
however,  assured  us  we  might  come  in  and  help  our- 


A   Trying  Ordeal.  281 

selves  to  anything  in  the  house ;  so  we  managed  to  en- 
joy our  luncheon,  though  some  of  us  only  after  a  fashion. 
There  were  three  gentlemen,  a  wife,  and  a  cousin,  who 
for  the  first  time  did  not  care  much  for  anything  in  the 
form  of  luncheon.  Speeches,  speeches,  these  are  what 
troubled  Harry,  Davie  and  me;  and  I  had  cause  for 
grave  alarm,  of  which  they  could  form  little  idea;  for  I 
felt  that  if  Dunfermline  had  been  touched  and  her 
people  had  determined  to  give  us  a  public  reception, 
there  was  no  saying  to  what  lengths  they  might  go. 

If  I  could  decently  have  stolen  away  and  gone 
round  by  some  circuitous  route,  sending  my  fellow 
townsmen  an  apology,  and  telling  them  that  I  really  felt 
myself  unable  to  undergo  the  ordeal,  I  should  have  been 
tempted  to  do  so.  I  was  also  afraid  that  the  Queen 
Dowager  would  break  down,  for  if  ever  her  big  black 
eyes  get  wet  it's  all  over  with  her.  How  fortunate  it 
was  that  Mrs.  H.  was  with  her  to  keep  her  right!  It 
was  wisely  resolved  that  she  should  take  her  inside  of 
the  coach  and  watch  over  her.  I  bit  my  lip,  told  the 
Charioteers  they  were  in  for  it  and  must  go  through 
without  flinching,  that  now  the  crisis  had  come  I  was 
just  bound  to  stand  anything.  I  was  past  stage-fright, 
and  I  assured  myself  that  they  could  do  their  worst — I 
was  callous  and  would  not  be  moved — but  to  play  the 
part  of  a  popular  hero  even  for  a  day,  wondering  all  the 
time  what  you  have  done  to  deserve  the  outburst,  is 
fearful  work.     When  I  did  get  time  to  think  of  it,  my 


282  Four-in-Hand  in  Britain. 

tower  of  strength  lay  in  the  knowledge  that  the  spark 
which  had  set  fire  to  their  hearts  was  the  Queen  Dowa- 
ger's return  and  her  share  in  the  day's  proceedings, 
'^rand  woman,  she  has  deserved  all  that  was  done  in  her 
honor  even  on  that  day. 

A  man  stopped  us  at  the  junction  of  the  roads  to 
inform  us  that  we  were  expected  to  pass  through  the 
ancient  borough  of  Innerkeithing ;  but  I  forgot  myself 
there.  It  seemed  a  fair  chance  to  escape  part  of  the 
excitement  (we  had  not  yet  begun  the  campaign  as  it 
were)  ;  at  all  events  I  dodged  to  escape  the  first  fire,  as 
raw  troops  are  always  said  to  do,  and  so  we  took  the 
direct  road.  When  the  top  of  the  Ferry  Hills  was 
reached  we  saw  the  town,  all  as  dead  as  if  the  holy  Sab- 
bath lay  upon  it,  without  one  evidence  of  life.  How 
beautiful  is  Dunfermline  seen  from  the  Ferry  Hills,  its 
grand  old  abbey  towering  over  all,  seeming  to  hallow 
the  city  and  to  lend  a  charm  and  dignity  to  the  lowliest 
tenement.  Nor  is  there  in  all  broad  Scotland,  nor  in 
many  places  elsewhere,  that  I  know  of,  a  more  varied 
and  delightful  view  than  that  obtained  from  the  park 
upon  a  fine  day.  What  Benares  is  to  the  Hindoo, 
Mecca  to  the  Mohammedan,  Jerusalem  to  the  Chris- 
tian, all  that  Dunfermline  is  to  me. 

But  here  I  must  stop.  If  you  want  to  learn  how 
impulsive  and  enthusiastic  the  Scotch  are  when  once 
aroused,  how  dark  and  stern  and  true  is  the  North,  and 
yet  how  fervid  and  overwhelming  in  its  love  when  the 


The  Free  Library.  283 

blood  is  up,  I  do  not  know  where  you  will  find  a  better 
evidence  of  it  than  in  what  followed.  See  how  a  small 
spark  kindled  so  great  a  flame.  The  Queen  Dowager 
and  I  are  still  somewhat  shamefaced  about  it,  but  some- 
how or  other  we  managed  to  go  through  with  our  parts 
without  breaking  down. 

The  Queen  Dowager  had  been  chosen  to  lay  the 
Memorial  Stone  of  the  Free  Library,  and  the  enthusi- 
asm of  the  people  was  aroused  by  her  approach.  There 
was  something  of  the  fairy  tale  in  the  fact  that  she  had 
left  her  native  town,  poor,  thirty  odd  years  before,  with 
her  loved  ones,  to  found  a  new  home  in  the  great  Re- 
public, and  was  to-day  returning  in  her  coach,  to  be  al- 
lowed the  privilege  of  linking  her  name  with  the  annals 
of  her  beloved  native  town  in  one  of  the  most  enduring 
forms  possible ;  for  whatever  agencies  for  good  may 
rise  or  fall  in  the  future,  it  seems  certain  that  the  Free 
Library  is  destined  to  stand  and  become  a  never-ceasing 
foundation  of  good  to  all  the  inhabitants.  Well,  the 
future  historian  of  that  ancient  town  will  record  that  on 
this  day,  under  bright  sunshine,  and  amidst  the  plau- 
dits of  assembled  thousands,  the  Queen  Dowager  laid 
the  Memorial  Stone  of  the  building,  an  honor,  com- 
pared with  which,  I  was  charged  to  tell  the  citizens, 
in  the  Queen  Dowager's  estimation.  Queen  Victoria 
has  nothing  in  her  power  to  bestow.  So  say  also  the 
sons  of  the  Queen  Dowager.  The  ceremonies  passed 
off    triumphantly.     The    procession,  workingmen   and 


284  Foicr-in-Hand  in  Britain. 

address,  banquet,  and  all  the  rest  of  it  may  be  sum. 
med  up  in  the  remark  of  the  Dunfermline  press :  ''  The 
demonstration  may  be  said  to  be  unparalleled  in  the 
history  of  Dunfermline." 

I  will  not  be  tempted  to  say  anything  further  about 
this  unexpected  upheaval  except  this :  after  we  had 
stopped  and  saluted  the  Stars  and  Stripes,  displayed 
upon  the  Abbey  Tower  in  graceful  compliment  to  my 
American  friends   (no   foreign    flag   ever   floated  there 

before,  said  our  friend,  Mr.  R ,  keeper  of  the  ruins), 

we  passed  through  the  archway  to  the  Bartizan,  and  at 
this  moment  came  the  shock  of  all  that  day  to  me.  I 
was  standing  on  the  front  seat  of  the  coach  with  Pro- 
vost Walls  when  I  heard  the  first  toll  of  the  abbey  bell. 
My  knees  sank  from  under  me,  the  tears  came  rushing 
before  I  knew  it,  and  I  turned  round  to  tell  the  Provost 
that  I  must  give  in.  For  a  moment  I  felt  as  if  I  were 
about  to  faint.  Fortunately  I  saw  that  there  was  no 
crowd  before  us  for  a  little  distance.  I  had  time  to  re- 
gain control,  and  biting  my  lips  till  they  actually  bled, 
I  murmured  to  myself,  "  No  matter,  keep  cool,  you 
must  go  on ; "  but  never  can  there  come  to  my  ears  on 
earth,  nor  enter  so  deep  into  my  soul,  a  sound  that 
shall  haunt  and  subdue  me  with  its  sweet,  gracious, 
melting  power  like  that. 

By  that  curfew  bell  I  had  been  laid  in  my  little 
couch  to  sleep  the  sleep  of  childish  innocence.  Father 
and  mother,  sometimes  the  one,  sometimes  the  other, 


The  Abbey  Bell.  285 

had  told  me,  as  they  bent  lovingly  over  me  night  after 
night,  what  that  bell  said  as  it  tolled.  Many  good 
words  has  that  bell  spoken  to  me  through  their  trans- 
lations. No  wrong  thing  did  I  do  through  the  day 
which  that  voice  from  all  I  knew  of  heaven  and  the 
great  Father  there  did  not  tell  me  kindly  about  ere  I 
sank  to  sleep,  speaking  the  very  words  so  plainly  that  I 
knew  that  the  power  that  moved  it  had  seen  all  and  was 
not  angry,  never  angry,  never,  but  so  very,  very  sorry. 
Nor  is  that  bell  dumb  to  me  to-day  when  I  hear  its 
voice.  It  still  has  its  message,  and  now  it  sounded  to 
welcome  back  the  exiled  mother  and  son  under  its  pre- 
cious care  again. 

The  world  has  not  within  its  power  to  devise,  much 
less  to  bestow  upon  us,  such  a  reward  as  that  which  the 
abbey  bell  gave  when  it  tolled  in  our  honor.  But  my 
brother  Tom  should  have  been  there  also  ;  this  was  the 
thought  that  came.  He,  too,  was  beginning  to  know 
the  wonders  of  that  bell  ere  we  were  away  to  the  newer 
land. 

Rousseau  wished  to  die  to  the  strains  of  sweet  music. 
Could  I  choose  my  accompaniment,  I  could  wish  to  pass 
into  the  dim  beyond  with  the  tolling  of  the  abbey  bell 
sounding  in  my  ears,  telling  me  of  the  race  that  had  been 
run,  and  calling  me,  as  it  had  called  the  little  white- 
haired  child,  for  the  last  time — to  sleep. 

We  spent  two  days  in  Dunfermline.  The  tourist 
who  runs  over  from  Edinburgh  will  find  the  Abbey  and 


286  Four-in-Hand  hi  Britahi. 

the  Palace  ruins  well  worthy  a  visit.  Take  a  day  and 
see  them,  is  my  advice.  Queen  Margaret,  King  Robert 
the  Bruce,  and  many  other  Kings  and  Queens  are  in- 
terred in  the  Abbey,  for  this  was  the  capital  of  Scotland 
long  ere  Edinburgh  rose  to  importance.  Who  does  not 
remember  the  famous  ballad  of  Sir  Patrick  Spens : 

"  The  King  sits  in  Dunfermline  toon, 
Drinking  the  bluid  red  wine  ; 
Oh  where  will  I  get  a  skelly  skipper 
To  sail  this  ship  of  mine." 

Dunfermline  is  now  the  principal  seat  of  the  damask 
manufacture.  Americans  will  be  interested  in  knowing 
that  at  least  two-thirds  of  all  the  table  linen  made  in 
the  eleven  factories  here  are  for  republican  use.  While 
we  were  there  the  rage  was  for  designs  showing  the 
American  race-horse  Iroquois  leading  all  the  fleet  steeds 
of  England;  now  it  is  said  to  be  for  "  Jumbo  "  patterns. 

A  visit  to  one  of  the  leading  factories  cannot  fail  to  be 
interesting  to  the  sight-seer,  and  to  such  as  may  go  I  sug- 
gest that  a  good  look  be  taken  at  the  stalwart  lassies  and 
good-looking  young  women  who  work  there.  Several 
thousand  of  them  marched  in  the  procession  formed  to 
greet  us  at  the  city  line,  and  their  comely  appearance 
and  the  good  taste  shown  in  their  dress  surprised  the 
coaching  party  very  agreeably.  Indeed,  our  Poetaster 
improvised  a  verse  which  illustrates  the  change  which 
has  come  over  the  ancient  capital  since  the  days  of  Sir 
Patrick  Spens,  and  gave  it  to  us  as  we  rolled  along : 


The  New  Kings.  287 

"  The  old  Kings  sat  in  Dunfermline  town, 
Drinking  the  blood  red  wine  ; 
The  new  Kings  are  at  better  work, 
Weaving  the  damask  fine," 

Quite  correct,  Davie.  Does  not  Holy  Writ  declare 
that  the  diligent  man  shall  stand  before  Kings  ?  And 
is  it  not  time  that  the  bibulous  King  should  give  place 
to  the  useful  citizen — the  world  over  ! 

Friday  was  a  cloudy  day,  but  some  of  our  friends, 
who  spent  the  early  morning  with  us  and  saw  us  off, 
unanimously  predicted  that  it  would  clear.  They 
proved  true  weather  prophets,  for  it  did  turn  out  to  be 
a  bright  day.  Passing  the  residence  of  Colonel  Myers, 
the  American  Consul,  we  drove  in  and  gave  that  repre- 
sentative of  the  great  Republic  and  his  wife  three  fare- 
well cheers. 


Kinross,  Friday,  July  28, 
Kinross  was  the  lunching-place.  Mother  was  for  the 
first  and  last  time  compelled  to  seek  the  inside  for  a  few 
hours  after  leaving  Dunfermline.  These  farewells  from 
those  near  and  dear  to  you  are  among  the  crudest 
ordeals  one  has  to  undergo  in  life.  One  of  the  most 
desirable  arrangements  held  out  to  us  in  all  that  is  said 
of  heaven  is  to  my  mind  that  there  shall  be  no  parting 
there.  Hell  might  be  invested  with  a  new  horror  by 
having  them  daily. 


288  Four-in-Hand  in  Britain. 

We  had  time  while  at  Kinross  to  walk  along  Loch 
Leven  and  see  the  ruined  castle  upon  the  island,  from 
which  Douglas  rescued  Queen  Mary.  What  a  question 
this  of  Mary  Queen  of  Scots  is  in  Scotland  !  To  intimate 
a  doubt  that  she  was  not  purity  itself  suffices  to  stir  up 
a  warm  discussion.  Long  after  a  "point  of  divinity" 
ceases  to  be  the  best  bone  to  snarl  over,  this  Queen 
Mary  question  will  probably  still  serve  the  purpose. 
What  matters  it  what  she  was  ?  It  is  now  a  case  of 
beauty  in  distress,  and  we  cannot  help  sympathizing 
with  a  gentle,  refined  woman  (even  if  her  refinement 
was  French  veneering),  surrounded  by  rude,  coarse  men. 
What  is  the  use  of  "  argie  bargieing  "  about  it  ?  Still, 
I  suppose,  we  must  have  a  bone  of  some  kind,  and  this 
is  certainly  a  more  sensible  one  than  the  "  point  of 
divinity,"  which  happily  is  going  somewhat  out  of 
fashion. 

To-day's  talk  on  the  coach  was  all  of  the  demonstra- 
tion at  Dunfermline,  and  one  after  another  incident  was 

recalled.     Bailie  W was  determined  we  should  learn 

what  real  Scotch  gooseberries  are,  and  had  put  on  the 
coach  an  immense  basketful  of  them.  "  We  never  can 
dispose  of  so  many,"  was  the  verdict  at  Kinross  ;  at 
Perth  it  was  modified,  and  ere  Pitlochrie  was  reached 
the  verdict  was  reversed  and  more  wished  for.  Our 
American  friends  had  never  known  gooseberries  before, 
friend  Bailie,  so  they  said. 

Fair  Perth  was  to  be  our  resting-place,  but  before 


The  Carse  of  Gowrie.  289 

arriving  there  the  pedestrians  of  the  party  had  one  of 
their  grandest  excursions,  walking  through  beautiful 
Glen  Farg.  They  were  overpowered  at  every  turn  by 
its  loveliness,  and  declared  that  there  is  nothing  like  it 
out  of  Scotland.  The  ferns  and  the  wild  flowers,  in  all 
their  dewy  freshness  after  the  rains,  made  us  all  young 
again,  and  the  glen  echoed  our  laughter  and  our  songs. 
The  outlet  from  the  glen  into  the  rich  Carse  of  Gowrie 
gave  us  another  surprise  worthy  of  record.  There  is 
nothing,  I  think,  either  in  Britain  or  America,  that  is 
equal  in  cultivation  to  the  famous  Carse  of  Gowrie. 
They  will  be  clever  agriculturists  who  teach  the  farmers 
of  the  Carse  how  to  increase  very  greatly  the  harvest  of 
that  portion  of  our  good  mother  earth.  Davie  began  to 
see  how  it  is  that  Scotland  grows  crops  that  England 
cannot  rival.  Perthshire  is  a  very  beautiful  county, 
neither  Highland  nor  Lowland,  but  occupying,  as  it 
were,  the  golden  mean  between,  and  possessed  of  many 
of  the  advantages  of  both. 


Perth,  Saturday,  July  29. 
The  view  from  the  hill-top  overlooking  Perth  is 
superb.  "  Fair  Perth  indeed !  "  we  all  exclaim.  The 
winding  Tay,  with  one  large  sail-boat  gliding  on  its 
waters,  the  fertile  plains  beyond,  and  the  bold  crag  at 
the  base  of  which  the  river  sweeps  down,  arrested  the 
attention  of  our  happy  pedestrians  and  kept  them  long 
upon  the  hill.  I  had  never  seen  Perth  before,  and  it  was 
19 


290  Four -in-Hand  in  Britai7i. 

a  surprise  to  me  to  find  its  situation  so  very  fine ;  but 
then  we  are  all  more  and  more  surprised  at  what  Scot- 
land has  to  show  when  thoroughly  examined.  The  finer 
view  from  the  hill  of  Kinnoul  should  be  seen,  if  one 
would  know  of  what  Scotland  has  to  boast. 

Antiquaries  refer  the  foundation  of  Perth  to  the 
Roman  Agricola.  who  saw  in  its  hills  another  Rome,  and 
in  its  river  another  Tiber. 

"  Behold  the  Tiber! '  the  vain  Roman  cried, 
Viewing  the  ample  Tay  from  Baiglie's  side; 
But  Where's  the  Scot  that  would  the  vaunt  repay, 
And  hail  the  puny  Tiber  for  the  Tay  ?  " 

But  Agricola,  poor  fellow,  was  probably  homesick,  and 
felt  much  like  the  expatriated  Scot  who  tries  to  imagine 
himself  on  his  native  heath  when  eating  his  annual 
haggis  at  St.  Andrew's  dinner  in  New  York. 

From  the  days  of  Kenneth  McAlpine  down  to  the 
times  of  James  I.,  Perth  was  the  capital  of  Scotland,  and 
witnessed  the  coronation  of  all  her  kings.  Every  Scot 
knows  the  story  of  James  I. — how  he  hid  from  the  as- 
sassins in  the  Dominican  Convent,  how  fair  Catherine 
Douglas  thrust  her  arm  through  the  socket  of  the  bolt 
and  held  the  door  against  them  until  her  bones  were 
brutally  crushed,  and  how  the  fugitive  was  finally  dragged 
from  his  place  of  concealment  by 

"  Robert  Grahame 
That  slew  our  king-, 
God  give  him  shame ! " 


Fair  Perth.  291 

The  old  Abbey  of  Scone,  the  place  of  coronation,  is 
about  two  and  a  half  miles  from  the  town,  but  little  re- 
mains of  it  now  besides  its  name  and  its  associations. 
The  ancient  mound  is  there,  but  the  sacred  stone  on 
which  the  monarchs  stood  when  crowned  was  carried 
away  by  Edward  I.,  and  is  now  in  Westminster  Abbey, 
an  object  of  interest  to  all  true  Scotsmen.  In  those 
royal  days — rude  and  rough  days  they  were  too,  viewed 
through  modern  spectacles — Perth  was  the  centre  to- 
w-ard  which  most  of  the  clansmen  looked,  and  almost 
every  available  hill  in  its  vicinity  was  crowned  by  a  cas- 
tle, the  stronghold  of  some  powerful  chieftain.  Of 
course  these  autocrats  were  often  at  feud  with  each 
other,  and  frequently  even  with  the  magistrates  of  the 
town.  In  the  latter  case,  if  not  strong  enough  to  beard 
the  lion  in  his  den,  they  would  waylay  provision 
trains  or  vessels  carrying  necessaries  to  the  city,  and 
then  the  citizens  would  rise  in  their  wrath  and  sally 
forth  with  sword  and  buckler  and  burn  a  castle  or  two. 
But  quarrels  with  the  towns-people  did  not  pay  in  the 
long  run,  and  their  brands  were  oftener  turned  against 
each  other. 

It  is  a  sad  commentary  on  the  morals  of  the  day 
that  these  neighborly  feuds  were  rather  fostered 
than  checked  by  the  authorities,  who  thought  to  win 
safety  for  themselves  out  of  this  brotherly  throat- 
cutting.  Sometimes  the  king  set  a  score  or  two  of 
them  by  the  ears  in  the  outskirts  of  the  town  for  the 


292  Four-in-Hand  in  Brziain. 

court's  amusement,  just  as  bears  and  bandogs  were 
pitted  against  each  other  in  those  godless  days.  Every- 
body has  read  in  the  "  Fair  Maid  of  Perth  "  the  graphic 
account  of  one  of  these  savage  battles  between  thirty 
picked  men  of  the  Clan  Quhele  and  as  many  of  the 
Clan  Chattan,  on  the  North  Inch  of  the  city — that  beau- 
tiful meadow  in  which  Agricola  saw  a  striking  resem- 
blance to  the  Campus  Martius.  The  story  is  historically 
true,  the  battle  having  actually  taken  place  in  the  reign 
of  Robert  III.,  who  had  in  vain  tried  to  reduce  the 
rivals  to  order.  As  a  last  resort  it  was  suggested  that 
each  should  select  his  champions  and  fight  it  out  in  the 
presence  of  the  king,  it  being  shrewdly  hoped  that  the 
peace  of  the  community  would  be  secured  through  the 
slaughter  of  the  best  men  of  both  sides.  The  place 
chosen  was  prepared  by  surrounding  it  with  a  trench 
and  by  erecting  galleries  for  spectators,  for  the  brutal 
combat  was  witnessed  by  the  king  and  his  court  and  by 
many  English  and  French  knights,  attracted  thither  by 
the  novelty  of  the  spectacle.  The  contestants,  armed 
with  their  native  weapons — bows  and  arrows,  swords 
and  targets,  short  knives  and  battle  axes — entered  the 
lists,  and  at  the  royal  signal  butchered  each  other  until 
victory  declared  in  favor  of  Clan  Chattan,  the  only  sur- 
vivor of  its  opponents  having  swam  the  river  and  es- 
caped to  the  woods.  The  few  left  of  the  conquering 
party  were  so  chopped  and  carved  and  lopped  of  limbs 
that  they  could  be  no  longer  regarded  as  either  use- 


Villas  on  the   Tay.  293 

ful  or  ornamental  members  of  society — and  thus  good 
king  Robert's  sagacity  in  pitting  these  turbulent  fellows 
against  each  other  was  apparently  justified. 

Before  starting  to-day  we  had  time  to  stroll  along 
the  Tay  for  an  hour  or  two.  We  were  especially  at- 
tracted by  a  volunteer  regiment  under  drill  upon  the 
green,  and  were  gratified  to  see  that  the  men  looked 
remarkably  well  under  close  inspection,  as  indeed  did  all 
the  militia  and  volunteers  we  saw.  The  nation  cannot 
be  wrong  in  accounting  these  forces  most  valuable  aux 
iliaries  in  case  of  need.  I  have  no  doubt  but  in  the 
course  of  one  short  campaign  they  would  equal  regular 
troops ;  at  least  such  was  the  experience  in  the  Ameri- 
can war.  The  men  we  saw  were  certainly  superior  to 
regulars  as  men.  It  is  in  a  war  of  defence,  when  one's 
own  country  is  to  be  fought  for,  that  bayonets  which 
can  think  are  wanted.  With  such  a  question  at  issue, 
these  Scotchmen  would  rout  any  regular  troops  in  the 
world  who  opposed  them  for  pay.  As  for  miserable 
skirmishes  against  poor  half-armed  savages,  I  hope  these 
men  would  think  enough  to  despise  the  bad  use  they 
were  put  to. 

The  villas  we  saw  upon  the  opposite  bank  of  the 
Tay  looked  very  pretty — nice  home-like  places,  with 
their  gardens  and  boat-houses.  We  voted  fair  Perth 
very  fair  indeed.  After  luncheon,  which  was  taken  in 
the  hotel  at  Dunkeld,  we  left  our  horses  to  rest  and 
made  an  excursion  of  a  few  miles  to  the  .falls,  to  the 


294  Four-in-Ha7td  in  Di'itain. 

place  in  the  Vale  of  Athol  where  Millais  made  the  sketch 
for  his  celebrated  picture  called  "  O'er  the  hills  and  far 
awa'."  It  is  a  grand  view,  and  lighted  as  it  then  was  by 
glimpses  of  sunshine  through  dark  masses  of  cloud,  giv- 
ing many  of  the  rainbow  tints  upon  the  heather,  it  is 
sure  to  remain  long  with  us.  For  thirty  miles  stretch 
the  vast  possessions  of  the  Duke  of  Athol ;  over  moun- 
tain, strath,  and  glen  he  is  monarch  of  all  the  eye  can 
see — a  noble  heritage.  A  recent  storm  is  said  to  have 
uprooted  seventy  thousand  of  his  trees  in  a  single 
night. 

The  scenery  in  the  neighborhood  of  Dunkeld  is  very 
beautiful.  The  description  of  the  poet  Gray,  who 
visited  it  in  1766,  will  do  as  well  to-day.  "The  road 
came  to  the  brow  of  a  deep  descent ;  and  between  two 
woods  of  oak  we  saw,  far  below  us,  the  Tay  come 
sweeping  along  at  the  bottom  of  a  precipice  at  least  a 
hundred  and  fifty  feet  deep,  clear  as  glass,  full  to  the 
brim,  and  very  rapid  in  its  course.  It  seemed  to  issue 
out  of  woods  thick  and  tall  that  rose  on  either  hand, 
and  were  overhung  by  broken  rocky  crags  of  vast 
height.  Above  them,  to  the  west,  the  tops  of  higher 
mountains  appeared,  on  which  the  evening  clouds  re- 
posed. Down  by  the  side  of  the  river,  under  the  thick- 
est shades,  is  seated  the  town  of  Dunkeld.  In  the  midst 
of  it  stands  a  ruined  cathedral ;  the  tower  and  shell  of 
the  building  still  entire.  A  little  beyond  it  a  large 
house   of  the   Duke   of  Athole,   with   its  offices  and 


Dunkeld  Cathedral.  295 

crardens,  extends  a  mile  beyond  the  town :  and,  as  his 
o-rounds  are  intersected  by  the  streets  and  roads,  he  has 
flung  arches  of  communication  across  them,  that  add 
much  to  the  scenery  of  the  place." 

The  cathedral,  still  a  noble  ruin,  stands  a  little  apart 
from  the  town,  in  a  grove  of  fine  old  trees.  It  owes  its 
destruction  to  the  Puritans,  who  sacked  it  in  the  six- 
teenth century,  though  the  order  "  to  purge  the  kyrk 
of  all  kinds  of  monuments  of  idolatrye  "  was  directed 
only  against  images  and  altars.  But  the  zeal  of  men  in 
those  days  of  bigotry  was  hard  to  control,  and  the  mob 
did  not  desist  from  its  work  while  a  door  remained  on 
its  hinges  or  a  window  was  unbroken.  Since  then 
tower,  nave,  and  aisles  have  remained  open  to  sun  and 
storm  ;  the  choir  alone  has  been  refitted  and  is  now 
used  as  the  parish  church.  In  the  choir  is  still  to  be 
seen  the  tomb  and  recumbent  statue  of  the  famous 
Earl  of  Buchan,  better  known  as  the  Wolf  of  Badenoch. 

The  coachman  who  drove  us  to-day  interested  us  by 
his  knowledge  of  men  and  things — such  a  character  as 
could  hardly  grow  except  on  the  heather.  He  "  did 
not  think  muckle  o'  one  man  owning  thirty  miles 
o'  land  who  had  done  nothing  for  it."  His  reply  to  a 
question  was  given  with  such  a  pawkie  expression  that  it 
remains  fixed  in  the  memory.  "  Why  do  not  the  people 
just  meet  and  resolve  that  they  will  no  longer  have 
kings,  princes,  dukes  or  lords,  and  declare  that  all  men 
are  born  equal,  as  we  have  done  in  America?" 


296  Four -in-  Hand  in  Britain. 

"Aye,  maan,  it  would  hae  to  be  a  strong  meeting 
that ! " 

Tliat  strong  was  so  very  strong ;  but  there  will  be  one 
strong  enough  some  day,  for  all  that.  We  cannot  stand 
nonsense  forever,  patient  as  we  are  and  slow. 

Dunkeld  is  the  gateway  of  the  Highlands,  and  we 
enter  it,  singing  as  we  pass  upward  : 

"  There  are  hills  beyond  Pentland 
And  streams  beyond  Forth  ; 
If  there  are  lords  in  the  south 
There  are  chiefs  in  the  north." 

We  are  among  the  real  hills  at  last.  Yonder  towers 
Birnam,  and  here  Dunsinane  Hill.  Mighty  master, 
even  here  is  your  shade,  and  we  dwell  again  in  your 
shadow.  The  very  air  breathes  of  Macbeth,  and  the 
murdered  Banquo  still  haunts  the  glen.  How  perfectly 
Shakespeare  flings  into  two  words  the  slow  gathering 
darkness  of  night  in  this  northern  latitude,  among  the 
deep  green  pines : 

"  Ere  the  bat  hath  flown 
His  cloister'd  flight ;  ere,  to  black  Hecate's  summons, 
The  shard-borne  beetle,  with  his  drowsy  hum, 
Hath  rung  night's  yawning  peal,  there  shall  be  done 

A  deed  of  dreadful  note 

.     .     .     .     Light  thickens  ;  and  the  crow 
Makes  wing  to  the  rooky  wood  : 
Good  things  of  day  begin  to  droop  and  drowse  ; 
Whiles  night's  black  agents  to  their  prey  do  rouse." 


Birnain   Wood,  297 

That  man  shut  his  eyes  and  imagined  more  than 
other  men  could  see  with  their  eyes  wide  open  even 
when  among  the  scenes  depicted.  The  light  does 
"  thicken,"  and  the  darkness  creeps  upon  us  and  wraps 
us  in  its  mantle  unawares.  * 

Birnam,  a  wooded  hill  on  the  bank  of  the  Tay,  is 
about  twelve  miles  from  Dunsinane  or  Dunsinnane  Hill, 
the  traditional  stronghold  of  Macbeth  the  Giant,  as  the 
usurper  was  known  to  the  country  people.  According 
to  the  common  story,  when  Macbeth  heard  from  his 
spies  of  the  coming  of  Malcolm  Canmore's  troops  from 
Birnam  with  branches  in  their  hands,  he  recalled  the 
prophecy  of  the  witches,  and,  despairing  of  holding  the 
castle  against  them,  deserted  it  and  fled,  pursued  by 
Malcolm,  up  the  opposite  hill,  where  finding  it  impossible 
to  escape,  he  threw  himself  from  a  precipice  and  was 
killed  on  the  rocks  below.  His  place  of  burial  is  still 
shown  at  a  spot  called  Lang  Man's  Grave,  not  far  from 
the  road  where  Banquo  is  said  to  have  been  murdered. 

Some  Shakesperean  scholars  have  thought  that  the 
great  bard  must  have  collected  the  materials  for  his 
tragedy  upon  the  site.  It  is  well  known  that  Her 
Majesty's  Players  exhibited  at  Perth  in  1589,  and  it  is 
not  impossible  that  Shakespeare  may  have  been  among 
them  ;  but  it  is  scarcely  probable.  The  play  follows 
very  closely  the  history  of  Macbeth  as  narrated  by 
Hollinshed,  in  which  the  usurper  falls  in  single  combat 
with  Macduff,  and  there  can  be  little  doubt  that  Shakes- 


298  Four-in-Hand  in  Britain. 

peare  derived  his  facts  from  the  chronicle  rather  than 
from  personal  investigation. 

It  is  very  evident,  however,  that  Dunsinane  was  an- 
ciently a  strong  military  post.  The  hill,  which  rises 
about  eight  hundred  feet  above  its  base,  is  steep  and 
difficult  of  access  on  all  sides  but  one,  where  are  traces 
of  a  winding  road  cut  into  the  rock.  Its  flat  summit  was 
once  defended  by  a  strong  rampart,  which,  judging  from 
its  remains,  must  have  been  of  considerable  height  and 
thickness.  The  area  enclosed  by  it  is  more  than  two 
hundred  feet  long. 


PiTLOCHRIE,  July  30-31. 

This  is  a  great  resort  in  the  Highlands  ;  and  deserv- 
edly so,  for  excursions  can  be  made  in  every  direction 
to  famous  spots,  embracing  some  of  the  finest  scenery 
in  Scotland.  About  three  miles  north  of  it  rises  Ben 
Vracky,  and  within  easy  distances  are  Glen  Tilt,  Bruar 
Water,  the  Pass  of  Killicrankie,  Loch  Tummel,  the 
Falls  of  Tummel,  and  other  places  well  worthy  of  a 
visit  ;  but  as  the  Gay  Charioteers'  time  was  limited  they 
could  pay  their  respects  to  only  a  few  of  them. 

We  visited  the  hydropathic  establishment  in  the 
evening,  and  found  something  resembling  an  American 
hotel.  Such  establishments  are  numerous  in  England 
and  Scotland.  Few  of  the  guests  take  the  cold-water 
treatment,  as  I  had  supposed,  but  visit  the  hotels  more 
for  sake  of  a  change,  to  make  acquaintances,  and  to 


Falls  of  Ttimmel.  299 

"  have  a  good  time,"  as  we  say.  I  have  no  doubt  that 
a  month  of  Pitlochrie  air  is  highly  beneficial  for  almost 
any  one. 

We  walked  to  the  falls  of  Tummel,  and  spent  some 
happy  hours  there.  Cousin  Eliza  is  up  in  Scotch  songs, 
and  I  start  her  every  now  and  then.  It  has  a  charm  of 
its  own  to  sit  on  the  banks  of  the  very  stream,  with 
Athol  near,  and  listen  to  the  inquiry  finely  sung : 

"  Cam  ye  by  Athol, 
Lad  wi'  the  philibeg, 
Down  by  the  Tummel 
And  banks  of  the  Garry  ?  " 

Through  these  very  glens  the  mountaineers  came 
rushing, 

"  And  with  the  ocean's  mighty  swing 
When  heaving  to  the  tempest's  wing 
They  hurled  them  on  the  foe." 

There  is  a  new  meaning  to  the  song  when  Davie 
pours  it  forth  in  the  glen  itself : 

"Sweet  the  lavrock's  note  and  lang, 
Lilting  wildly  up  the  glen, 
But  aye  to  me  it  sings  ae  sang, 
Will  ye  no  come  back  again  ?  " 

What  a  chorus  we  gave  him  !  There  are  some  days 
in  which  we  live  more  than  twenty-four  hours ;  and 
these  days  in  Scottish  glens  count  for  more  than  a  week 
of  ordinary  life.     We  are  in  the  region  of  gamekeepers 


300  Fo2ir-in-Hand  in  Britain. 

and  dogs.  It  is  the  last  day  of  July,  and  the  whole 
country  is  preparing  for  the  annual  massacre  of  the  I2th 
of  August.  Is  civilization  so  very  far  advanced  when 
the  titled  and  wealthiest  portions  of  cultured  society 
have  still  for  their  chief  amusements — which  are  in  many 
cases  with  them  the  principal  business  of  life — the  rac- 
ing of  horses  one  half  of  the  year,  and  the  murdering  of 
poor  half-domesticated  birds  or  the  chasing  to  death  of 
poor  foxes  and  hares  the  other  half  ?  Can  civilized  man 
find  nothing  better  to  furnish  needful  recreation  after 
useful  toil  ? 

The  prices  paid  for  a  deer  forest  in  Scotland  are  in- 
credible. Twenty-five  to  fifty  thousand  dollars  per 
annum  for  the  right  to  shoot  over  a  few  thousand  acres 
of  poorly  timbered  land,  and  a  force  of  gamekeepers 
and  other  attendants  to  pay  for  besides. 

For  the  present  the  British  are  what  is  called  a  sport- 
ing people,  and  the  Highlands  are  their  favorite  hunting- 
grounds.  Their  ideas  of  sport  are  curious.  General 
Sheridan  told  me  that,  when  abroad,  he  was  invited  to 
try  some  of  their  sport,  but  when  he  saw  the  poor 
animals  driven  to  him,  and  that  all  he  had  to  do  was  to 
bang  away,  he  returned  the  gun  to  the  attendant.  He 
really  could  not  do  this  thing,  and  the  General  is  not 
very  squeamish  either.  As  for  hunting  down  a  poor 
hare — that  needs  the  deadening  influence  of  custom — 
women  ought  to  be  ashamed  of  it  now  ;  men  will  be 
anon. 


Pass  of  Killiecrankie.  301 

The  first  of  all  our  glens  is  the  Pass  of  Killiecran- 
kie, that  famous  defile  which  gave  its  name  to  the 
battle  that  proved  so  fatal  to  the  Stuarts,  for  the 
victory  won  there  by  the  adherents  of  the  so-called 
James  VII.,  was  more  than  counterbalanced  by  the  loss 
of  Claverhouse.  The  pass  is  a  narrow,  ragged  break 
through  the  mountains,  giving  a  passage  to  the  River 
Garry,  and  forming  the  only  practicable  entrance  from 
the  low  country  to  the  Highlands  above.  It  is  now 
accessible  by  a  broad,  smooth  highway  as  well  as  by 
the  railway,  but  at  the  time  of  the  battle  the  only  road 
through  it  was  a  rough  path  between  the  swirling  river 
and  the  rocks,  and  so  steep  and  narrow  that  but  two  men 
could  march  abreast.  Along  this  path  the  royal  forces 
under  McKay  slowly  made  their  way  ;  and  though  the 
pass  is  only  about  a  mile  and  a  half  long  it  was  after- 
noon before  the  little  army  of  three  thousand  debouched 
into  the  plain  at  its  extremity,  and  took  position  on  the 
high  ground  beyond.  Do  you  see  that  eminence  a  mile 
away  yonder,  on  the  north,  whose  sides  slope  down  into 
the  plain?  It  was  from  that  height  that  the  High- 
landers— McLeans,  McDonalds,  Camerons,  Lochiel, 
Dundee  and  all — came  down  like  a  torrent  upon  King 
William's  men  below.  The  red  sun  was  just  above  the 
western  hills.  With  fearful  yells  the  tide  of  ragged, 
barefooted  mountaineers  (Macaulay  says  that  Lochiel 
took  off  before  the  battle  what  was  probably  the  only 
pair  of  shoes  in  the  clans)  swept  on,  undismayed  by  the 


3^2  ,   Four-in-Hand  in  Britain. 

volleys  of  musketry  that  decimated  them  as  they  ran. 
Plaids  and  haversacks  were  thrown  away,  and  dropping 
their  fusils  as  they  fired  them,  they  were  upon  the 
astonished  Southrons  before  they  had  time  to  screw  on 
their  bayonets.  The  fight  was  over  in  a  few  minutes. 
More  than  a  thousand  men  went  down  under  the  strokes 
of  the  dreaded  claymores  and  Lochaber  axes,  and  away 
went  King  William's  men  in  a  panic  down  the  valley 
with  the  clans  at  their  heels.  The  victory  was  a  de- 
cisive one,  but  Claverhouse,  who  had  insisted,  against 
the  remonstrances  of  Lochiel  and  others,  upon  leading 
in  the  charge,  was  fatally  wounded  by  a  bullet  early  in 
the  action.  Up  yonder  on  the  right  is  Urrard  House, 
where  he  was  carried  to  die.  With  this  brave,  unscrupu- 
lous leader,  passed  away  the  last  hope  of  the  Stuarts  of 
winning  their  "  own  again."  When  King  William  heard 
of  the  defeat  and  of  Dundee's  death,  he  said,  "■  Well, 
were  it  not  so,  Dundee  would  have  been  at  my  gates  to 
tell  it  himself." 

We  walked  through  the  pass  on  our  way  northward, 
and  concluded  that  we  had  thus  far  seen  nothing  quite 
so  wild.  The  cliffs  rise  precipitously  on  each  side, 
clothed  here  and  there  with  patches  of  oak  and  birch. 
The  dark,  amber-brown  rushing  torrent  is  superb,  swirl- 
ing among  the  rocks,  down  which  it  has  poured  through 
eons  of  time,  wearing  them  into  strange  forms.  The 
very  streams  are  Scotch,  with  a  character  all  their  own, 
portraying   the  stern   features   of    the   race,   torn  and 


Pitlochrie  to  Dalwhinnie.  303 

twisted  by  endless  ages  of  struggle  with  the  rocks 
which  impeded  their  passage,  triumphantly  clearing 
their  pathway  to  the  sea  at  last  by  unceasing,  persistent 
endeavor.  The  sides  of  Scotia's  glens  are  a  never-failing 
source  of  delight,  the  wild  flowers  and  the  ferns  seem  so 
much  more  delicately  fine  than  they  are  anywhere  else. 
One  understands  how  they  affected  Burns. 

Some  of  our  ladies,  the  Queen  Dowager  always  for 
one,  will  delay  the  coach  any  time  to  range  the 
sides  of  the  glen ;  and  it  is  with  great  difficulty  that 
we  can  get  them  together  to  mount  once  more.  The 
horn  sounds  again  and  again,  and  still  they  linger ;  and 
when  they  at  last  emerge  from  the  copse,  it  is  with 
handfuls  or  rather  armfuls  of  Nature's  smiles — lapfuls 
of  wild  flowers — each  one  rejoicing  in  her  trophies, 
happy  as  the  day  is  long,  only  it  is  not  half  long  enough. 
Go  the  sun  down  never  so  late  it  sinks  to  its  rest  too 
soon. 


Dalwhinnie,  August  i. 
Our  drive  from  Pitlochrie  to  Dalwhinnie,  thirty-two 
miles,  was  from  beginning  to  end  unsurpassed — moun- 
tain and  moor,  forest  and  glen.  The  celebrated  falls 
of  Bruar  lay  in  our  route,  and  we  spent  two  hours  walk- 
ing up  the  glen  to  see  them.  Well  were  we  repaid.  This 
is  decided  to  be  the  finest,  most  varied  fall  of  all  we  have 
seen.  The  amber  torrent  works  and  squirms  itself 
through  caldrons  there,  and  gorges  here,  and  dashes  over 


304  Four-in-Hand  in  Britain. 

precipices  yonder,  revealing  new  beauties  and  giving  us 
fresh  delights  at  every  step.  No  gentle  kiss  gives  this 
Scotch  fiend  to  every  sedge  it  overtaketh  in  its  pil- 
grimage, for  in  truth,  dashing  and  splashing  against  the 
rocks,  the  surging,  boiling  water,  with  its  crest  of  spark- 
ling foam,  seems  a  live  spirit  escaping  from  the  glen 
and  bounding  to  the  sea,  pursued  by  angry  demons 
behind.  Standing  on  the  bridge  across  the  Bruar,  one 
need  not  be  entirely  off  his  balance  to  sympathize 
to  some  extent  with  the  wild  wish  of  my  young  lady 
friend,  who  thought  if  she  had  to  be  anything  dead 
she  would  be  a  plunging,  mad  stream  like  this,  danc- 
ing among  the  rocks,  snatching  to  its  breast,  as  it 
passed,  the  bluebell  and  the  forget-me-not,  the  broom 
and  the  fox-glove,  leaping  over  precipices  and  tossing 
its  gay  head  in  sparkling  rainbow  sprays  forever  and 
ever. 

It  was  while  gazing  at  this  fall  that  Burns  wrote  the 
petition  of  Bruar  Water.  The  shade  asked  for  has  been 
restored — "  Clanalpine's  pines,  in  battle  brave,"  now  fill 
the  glen,  and  the  falls  of  the  Bruar  sing  their  grateful 
thanks  to  the  bard  who  loved  them. 

I  have  often  reminded  you,  good  readers,  that  the 
coaching  party,  with  a  few  exceptions,  hailed  with  de- 
light every  opportunity  for  a  walk.  Contrary  to  ex- 
pectation, these  came  much  less  frequently  in  Scotland 
than  in  England.  Far  away  up  among  the  towering 
hills,  where  the  roads   necessarily  follow  the  streams 


Bruar  Water.  305 

which  have  pushed  themselves  through  the  narrow  de- 
files, we  get  miles  and  miles  in  the  glens  along  the  ever- 
changing  streams ;  but  it  is  too  level  for  pedestrianism 
unless  we  reduce  the  pace  of  the  coach  and  walk  the 
horses.  It  is  after  a  two  hours'  climb  up  the  glen  to  see 
such  a  waterfall  as  the  Bruar  that  we  return  to  the  coach, 
feeling,  as  we  mount  to  our  seats,  that  we  have  done  our 
duty.  We  were  many  miles  from  our  lunching  site,  and 
long  ere  it  was  reached  we  were  overtaken  by  the  moun- 
tain hunger.  When  we  arrived  at  the  house  on  the 
moors  where  entertainment  had  been  promised  us,  it  was 
to  find  that  it  had  been  rented  for  the  season  for  a  shoot- 
ing-box by  a  party  of  English  gentlemen,  who  were  to 
arrive  in  a  few  days  for  their  annual  sport — the  slaughter 
of  the  carefully  preserved  birds.  The  people,  however, 
were  very  kind,  and  gave  us  the  use  of  the  house.  Few 
midday  halts  gave  rise  to  more  gayety  than  this,  but 
there  is  one  item  to  be  here  recorded  which  is  peculiar 
to  this  luncheon.  For  the  first  and  only  time  the  stew- 
ardess had  to  confess  that  her  supplies  were  exhausted. 
Due  allowance,  she  thought,  had  been  made  for  the  ef- 
fects of  Highland  air,  but  the  climb  to  Bruar,  "or  the 
brunt  of  the  weather,"  had  produced  an  unusual  demand. 
The  very  last  morsel  was  eaten,  and  there  seemed  a  fla- 
vor of  hesitancy  in  the  assurance  some  of  us  gave  her 
that  we  wished  for  nothing  more.  There  was  not  even 
one  bite  left  for  the  beautiful  collies  we  saw  there. 

Has  the  amount  and  depth  of  affection  which  a  woman 


3o6  Four-m-Hand  i7i  Britain. 

can  waste  on  a  collie  dog  ever  been  justly  fathomed  ?  was 
a  question  raised  to-day  ;  but  our  ladies  declined  to  enter- 
tain it  at  all  unless  "waste"  was  changed  to  "bestow." 
The  amendment  was  accepted.  Many  stories  were  told 
of  these  wonderful  pets,  and  what  their  mistresses  had 
done  for  them.  My  story  was  a  true  one.  Miss  Nettie 
having  to  go  abroad  had  to  leave  her  collie  in  some  one's 
care.  Many  eligible  parties  had  been  thoughtfully  can- 
vassed, when  I  suggested  that,  as  I  had  given  her  the 
dog,  it  might  be  perfectly  safe  to  leave  him  with  me,  or 
rather  with  John  and  the  horses.  A  grave  shake  of  the 
head,  and  then,  "  I  have  thought  of  that,  but  have  given 
it  up.  It  would  never  do.  Trust  requires  a  woman  s 
care."  Not  a  smile,  all  as  grave  as  if  her  pet  had  been  a 
delicate  child.  "You  are  quite  right,"  I  replied;  "no 
doubt  he  would  have  a  dog's  life  of  it  at  the  stable." 
She  said  yes,  mournfully,  and  never  suspected  a  joke. 
In  a  stable  in  New  York  I  once  saw  a  doctor's  card 
nailed  up.  Inquiry  revealed  that  this  gave  the  coach- 
man the  address  of  the  physician  who  was  to  be  called 
in  case  the  lady's  dog  should  be  taken  ill  during  her 
absence.  If  the  ladies  must  go  wild  over  some  kind  of 
a  dog,  let  it  be  a  collie.     I  like  them  myself  a  little. 

It  was  gloaming  ere  we  reached  Loch  Ericht,  twelve 
hundred  and  fifty  feet  above  the  sea.  What  a  wild,  sol- 
itary country  it  is  around  us !  The  lake  lies  as  it  were 
in  the  lap  of  the  mountains.  It  is  easy  to  believe  that 
this  was  a  famous  Highland  stronghold  in  the   olden 


In  the  Highlands.  307 

time.  Even  Cromwell's  Ironsides  met  with  a  rude 
check  in  its  savage  glens  from  the  men  of  Athol.  Do 
you  see  rugged  Ben  Alder  yonder,  the  highest  of  the 
group  that  looks  down  into  the  still  waters  of  the  lake  ? 
In  its  recesses  is  the  cave  where  Prince  Charlie  was 
hidden  by  Cluny  Macpherson. 

The  gathering  of  the  night  shadows  warn  us  that  we 
must  seek  shelter,  and  in  a  few  minutes  we  are  housed 
in  the  queer  little  inn  at  Dalwhinnie.  A  bright  fire  was 
made,  and  we  were  as  gay  as  larks  at  dinner.  I  am  sure 
nothing  could  surprise  Americans  more  than  the  dinners 
and  meals  generally  which  were  given  us  even  in  such 
out-of-the-way  stations  as  this.  Everything  is  good, 
well-cooked,  and  nicely  served.  It  is  astonishing  what 
a  good  dinner  and  a  glass  of  genuine  old  claret  does  for 
a  party  after  such  a  long  day's  drive  and  a  climb. 

Reassembling  after  dinner  in  our  neat  little  parlor, 
the  Stars  and  Stripes  displayed  as  usual  over  the  mantel, 
we  were  all  as  fresh  and  bright  as  if  we  had  newly  risen, 
and  were  in  for  a  frolic.  The  incidents  of  the  day  gave 
us  plenty  to  talk  about — the  falls,  the  glen,  that  moun- 
tain blue,  the  lake,  and  oh  !  that  first  dazzling  glint  of 
purple  heather  upon  the  high  rock  in  the  glen  which 
drew  forth  such  exclamations !  A  little  patch  it  was 
which,  having  caught  more  of  the  sunshine  there  than 
that  upon  the  moors,  had  burst  before  it  into  the  purple, 
and  given  to  the  most  of  us  for  the  first  time  ample 
proof  of  the  rich,  glorious  beauty  of  that  famous  plant. 


3o8  Four-in-Hand  in  Britain, 

What  says  Annie's  song  ? 

"  I  can  calmly  gaze  o'er  the  flowery  lea, 
I  can  tentless  muse  o'er  the  summer  sea  ; 
But  a  nameless  rapture  my  bosom  fills 
As  I  gaze  on  the  face  of  the  heather  hill." 

Aye,  Annie,  the  "  nameless  rapture  "  swells  in  the 
bosom  of  every  Scotchman  worthy  of  the  name,  when 
he  treads  the  heather. 

Andrew  M.'s  prize  song,  "  The  Emigrant's  Lament, 
has  the  power  of  a  flower  to  symbolize  the  things  that 
tug  hardest  at  the  heart-strings  very  strongly  drawn 
By  the  way,  let  it  here  be  recorded,  this  is  a  Dunfermline 
song,  written  by  Mr.  Gilfillan — three  cheers  for  Dun- 
fermline !  (that  always  brings  the  thunder,  aye,  and 
something  of  the  lightning  too).  The  Scotchman  who 
left  the  land  where  his  forefathers  sleep  sings : 

"  The  palm-tree  waveth  high,  and  fair  the  myrtle  springs, 
And  to  the  Indian  maid  the  bulbul  sweetly  sings  ; 
But  I  dinna  see  the  broom  wi'  its  tassels  on  the  lea, 
Nor  hear  the  linties  sang  o'  my  ain  countrie." 

There  it  is,  neither  palm-tree  nor  myrtle,  poinsetta 
nor  Victoria  Regia,  nor  all  that  luscious  nature  has  to 
boast  in  the  dazzling  lands  of  the  south,  all  put  together, 
will  ever  make  good  to  that  woe-begone,  desolate, 
charred  heart  the  lack  of  that  wee  yellow  bush  o'  broom 
— never !  Nor  will  all  "  the  drowsy  syrups  of  the  East," 
quiet  the  ache  of  that  sad  breast  which  carries  within  it 


Scotland's  Flowers,  309 

the  doom  of  exile  from  the  scenes  and  friends  of  youth. 
They  cannot  agree,  in  these  days,  where  a  man's  soul  is, 
much  less  where  it  is  going  ;  let  search  be  made  for  it 
close,  very  close,  to  the  roots  of  that  ache.  It  is  not 
far  away  from  the  centre  which  colors  the  stream  of 
man's  life. 

Many  times  to-day,  in  the  exhilaration  of  the 
moment,  one  or  another  enthusiastic  member  called 
out,  "  What  do  ye  think  o'  Scotland  noo  ?  "  and  even 
Emma  had  to  confess  in  a  half-whisper  that  England 
was  nothing  to  this.  Perry  and  Joe  had  never  been 
beyond  the  border  before,  and  gave  in  their  adhesion 
to  the  verdict — there  is  no  place  like  Scotland.  "  Right, 
Perry ! "  ' 

We  have  never  seen  that  paragon  of  grace,  the 
Scottish  bluebell,  in  its  glory  till  now.  It  is  not  to  be 
judged  in  gardens,  for  it  is  not  in  its  element  there ;  but 
steal  upon  it  in  the  glen  and  see  how  it  goes  to  your 
heart.  Truly  I  think  the  Scotch  are  the  best  lovers  of 
flowers,  make  the  most  of  them,  and  draw  more  from 
them  than  any  other  people  do.  This  is  a  good  sign, 
and  may  be  adduced  as  another  proof  that  the  race  has 
a  tender,  weak  spot  in  the  heart  to  relieve  the  hard 
level  head  with  which  the  world  credits  them. 

Whew!  Thermometer  53°  during  the  night,  the 
coldest  weather  experienced  during  our  journey.  But 
how  invigorating !  Ten  years  knocked  off  from  the  age 
of  every  one  of  us  since  we  got  among  the  hills,  except- 


3IO  Fotir-in-Hand  in  Britain. 

ing  from  that  of  several  of  the  ladies,  who  could  hardly 
spare  so  much  and  still  be  as  charming. 

We  were  stirring  early  this  morning,  in  for  a  walk 
across  the  moors,  with  the  glorious  hills  surrounding  us. 
A  grand  walk  it  was  too,  and  the  echoes  of  the  horn 
from  the  coach  overtaking  us  came  all  too  soon  upon 
us.  Looking  back  down  the  valley  of  Loch  Ericht, 
we  had  the  ideal  Highland  view — mountains  every, 
where  fading  into  blue  in  the  distance,  green  to  their 
tops  except  when  capped  with  snow,  and  bare,  not  a 
tree  nor  a  shrub  to  break  their  baldness,  and  the  lake 
lying  peacefully  among  them  at  the  foot  of  the  vale, 
These  towering  masses 

"  Seem  to  stand  to  sentinel  Enchanted  Land." 

I  am  at  a  loss  for  any  scenery  elsewhere  with  which 
to  compare  that  of  the  Highlands.  The  bluish  tinge 
above,  the  rich  purple  tint  below,  the  thick  and  thin 
marled,  cloudy  slcy  with  its  small  rifts  of  clear  blue, 
through  which  alone  the  sun  glints  to  relieve  the  dark 
shadows  by  narrow  dazzling  lights — these  give  this 
scenery  a  weird  and  solemn  grandeur  unknown  else- 
where; at  least  I  have  seen  nothing  like  it.  During  my 
strolls  at  night  amid  such  scenes,  I  have  always  felt 
nearer  to  the  awful  mysteries  than  ever  before.  The 
glowering  bare  masses  of  mountain,  the  deep  still  lake 
sleeping  among  them,  the  sough  of  the  wind  through 


Ruthven  Castle.  311 

the  glen,  not  one  trace  of  man  to  be  seen,  no  wonder  it 
makes  one  eerie,  and  you  feel  as  if 

"  Nature  had  made  a  pause, 
An  awful  pause,  prophetic  of  its  end." 

Memory  must  have  much  to  do  with  this  eerie  feel- 
ing upon  such  occasions,  I  take  it,  for  every  scrap  of 
Scottish  poetry  and  song  bearing  upon  the  Highlands 
comes  rushing  back  to  me.  There  are  whispering 
sounds  in  the  glen  : 

"  Shades  of  the  dead,  have  I  not  heard  your  voices 
Rise  on  the  night-rolling  breath  of  the  gale  ? 
Surely  the  soul  of  the  hero  rejoices 

And  rides  on  the  wind  o'er  his  own  Highland  vale." 

I  hear  the  lament  of  Ossian  in  the  sough  of  the 
passing  wind. 

We  stopped  at  the  inn  at  Kingussie,  one  of  the  cen- 
tres of  sporting  interest,  but  drove  on  beyond  to  spread 
our  luncheon  upon  the  banks  of  the  Spey,  close  to  the 
remains  of  Ruthven  Castle,  a  fine  ruin  in  this  beautiful 
valley.  We  walked  to  it  after  luncheon.  It  was  here 
that  the  Highland  clans  assembled  after  the  defeat  at 
Culloden  Field  and  resolved  to  disband,  and  the  country 
was  rid  of  the  Stuarts  forever.  How  far  the  world  has 
travelled  since  those  days  !  The  best  king  or  family  of 
kings  in  the  world  is  not  worth  one  drop  of  an  honest 
man's  blood.  If  the  House  of  Commons  should  decide 
to-day  that  the  Prince  of  Wales  is  not  a  fit  and  proper 


312  Four-in-Hand  in  Britain, 

figure-head  and  should  vote  that  my  Lord  Tom  Noddy 
is,  there  is  not  a  sane  man  in  the  realm  who  would  move 
a  finger  for  the  rightful  heir;  yet  our  forefathers  thought 
it  a  religious  duty  to  plunge  their  country  into  civil  war 
to  restore  the  Stuarts, 

"  A  coward  race  to  honor  lost ; 
Who  knew  them  best  despised  them  most." 

But  I  suppose  they  were  about  a  fair  average  of  royal 
races.  "  Life  can  be  lived  well  even  in  a  palace,"  sings 
Matthew  Arnold,  and  the  more  credit  to  such  as  do 
live  it  well  there,  like  Queen  Victoria,  but  it  is  difficult 
work  and  needs  a  saint  to  begin  with.  It  does  one  good 
to  mark  such  progress.  I  will  not  believe  that  man  goes 
round  in  a  circle  as  the  earth  does  ;  upon  the  king  ab- 
surdity he  has  travelled  a  straight  line.  When  we  made 
kings  by  act  of  Parliament  (as  the  Guelphs  were  made), 
another  lesson  was  learned,  that  Parliament  can  unmake 
them  too.  That  is  one  bloody  circle  we  need  never 
travel  again.  Not  one  drop  of  blood  for  all  the  royal 
families  in  Christendom.     Carried,  ncin.  con. 

There  was  a  discussion  to-day  upon  the  best  mode  of 
enjoying  life.  Sydney  Smith's  famous  secret  was  men- 
tioned. When  asked  why  he  was  always  so  bright  and 
cheerful,  he  replied  :  The  secret  is  "  I  take  short  views 
of  things."  Somehow  this  is  the  Scriptural  idea,  "  Suf- 
ficient unto  the  day  is  the  evil  thereof."  A  good  story 
was  told  of  an  old  man  who  had  endured  many  of  the 


Honeysuckle  and  Roses.  3 1 3 

ills  of  life  in  his  long  journey.  His  friends  upon  one 
occasion,  more  trying  than  usual,  condoled  with  him,  say- 
ing that  he  really  had  more  troubles  than  other  men. 
"Yes,  my  friends,  that  Is  too  true.  I  have  been  sur- 
rounded by  troubles  all  my  life  long,  but  there  is  a 
curious  thing  about  them — nine-tenths  of  them  7iever 
happened y 

"  That  is  a  story  with  a  moral  for  you.     How  many  of 
our  troubles  ever  happened !     We   dream   of  ten  for 
every  one   that    comes.     One  of   the  Charioteers  was 
ready  with  a  verse  to  enforce  the  moral : 
"When  fortune  with  a  smiling  face 
Strews  roses  on  our  way, 
When  shall  we  stop  to  pick  them  up  ? 

To-day,  my  love,  to-day. 
But  should  she  frown  with  face  of  care, 

And  speak  of  coming  sorrow. 
When  shall  we  grieve,  if  grieve  we  must  ? 
To-morrow,  love,  to-morrow." 

This  was  received  with  evident  approval,  and  just  as 
it  ended  the  huge  beds  of  honeysuckle  lying  on  the 
hedge-rows  we  were  passing,  and  the  wild  roses  rising 
above  them  on  long  graceful  sprays,  nodding  their 
heads  as  if  desirous  of  doing  us  obeisance,  caused  one 
of  the  ladies  to  cry  out,  "  Oh,  here  are  the  roses  on  our 
way  just  now  !  Do  let  us  stop  and  pluck  them  to-day, 
as  the  poet  advises."  "Stop,  Perry!"  Right,  sir!" 
"  Steps,  Joey  !  "  "  Right,  sir  !  " — and  down  we  are  in  a 
moment  gathering  the  spoils.     "  Do  let  the  coach  drive 


314  Foicr-in-Hand  in  Britam. 

on  and  wait  for  us  at  the  top  of  the  next  hill."  "  But 
wait,  ladies,  let  us  all  put  our  flowers  inside  and  arrange 
them  when  we  stop  for  luncheon." 

It  is  a  superb  morning,  the  hedge-rows  prettier  than 
ever ;  the  larks  are  rising ;  now  and  then  a  hare  darts 
across  the  road  in  advance.  The  whirr  of  the  partridge 
or  pheasant  stirs  the  sportsman's  blood,  and  upon  every 
tree  some  feathered  songster  pours  forth  his  song. 
Faust  need  not  have  sold  himself  to  the  devil  for  youth, 
after  all.     We  find  it  here  in  this  glorious  gypsy  life. 

Upon  remounting  the  coach  after  an  hour's  frolic  in 
the  lane,  some  one  wanted  the  reciter  to  repeat  the 
verse  which  had  caused  the  stop,  but  he  said  there 
was  a  second  verse  which  also  had  its  moral,  and,  if 
permitted,  he  would  give  this  instead.  Agreed  to, 
provided  he  would  give  the  ladies  a  copy  of  both  verses 
for  their  books — one  copy  for  the  lot,  and  this  each 
would  copy  for  herself.     His  terms,  however,  were  that 

he  should  repeat  it  alone  to  Miss and  teach  it  to 

her  (sly  dog),  and  she  could  make  the  copies.  He  then 
gave  us  the  second  verse  : 

"  If  those  who've  wronged  us  own  their  faults 

And  kindly  pity  pray, 
When  shall  we  listen  and  forgive  ? 

To-day,  my  love,  to-day. 
But  if  stern  justice  urge  rebuke 

And  warmth  from  memory  borrow, 
"When  shall  we  chide,  if  chide  we  must  ? 

To-morrow,  love,  to-morrow." 


Good  Philosophy.  3 1 5 

This  was  voted  a  fit  companion  for  the  first  verse, 
so  the  Charioteers  to-day  had  two  moral  lessons. 

The  student  said  it  was  also  good  philosophy,  and 
taught  by  no  less  an  authority  than  Herbert  Spencer 
himself,  who  had  exposed  the  folly  of  postponing  pres- 
ent enjoyments  in  the  hope  that  they  will  be  better 
if  enjoyed  at  a  later  date.  Here  are  the  words  of  the 
sage  : 

"  Hence  has  resulted  the  belief  that,  irrespective  of 
their  kinds,  the  pleasures  of  the  present  must  be  sacri- 
ficed to  the  pleasures  of  the  future.  So  ignorant  is  this 
belief,  that  it  is  wrong  to  seek  immediate  enjoyments 
and  right  to  seek  remote  ones  only,  that  you  may  hear 
from  a  busy  man  who  has  been  on  a  pleasure  excur- 
sion a  kind  of  apology  for  his  conduct.  He  depre- 
cates the  unfavorable  judgments  of  his  friends  by  ex- 
plaining that  the  state  of  his  health  had  compelled 
him  to  take  a  holiday,  nevertheless  if  you  sound  him 
with  respect  to  his  future,  you  will  find  out  his  ambi- 
tion is  by  and  by  to  retire  and  devote  himself  wholly 
to  the  relaxation  which  he  is  now  somewhat  ashamed 
of  taking.  The  current  conception  further  errs  by  im- 
plying that  a  gratification  which  forms  a  proper  aim  if 
it  is  remote,  forms  an  improper  aim  if  it  is  proximate." 

And  this  from  the  "Data  of  Ethics."  So  that 
the  poet  and  the  philosopher  are  as  one. 

"  Does  Herbert  Spencer  write  so  clearly  and  simply 
as  that  upon  such  subjects?"  asked  one  of  the  young 


3i6  Fotir-in-Hand  in  Britain. 

ladies.  "  I  thought  he  was  so  fearfully  deep.  His 
books  sound  so  very  learned  and  abstruse,  I  have  only 
read  his  work  on  *  Education' ;  that  was  splendid,  and  I 
understood  it  all,  every  word.  If  that  book  you  just 
quoted  from  had  an  easy  name  I'd  go  to  work  at  it — but 
'Data  of  Ethics'  frightens  me.  I  don't  know  exactly 
what  Data  means,  and  I'm  mixed  on  Ethics." 

The  voice  of  the  Coach  was  clear  upon  "  Education," 
however,  and  I  recall  just  now  the  remark  of  my  little 
nephew  to  his  mother,  when  Mr.  Spencer  did  us  the 
honor  of  visiting  us :  "  Mamma,  I  want  to  see  the  man 
who  wrote  in  a  book  that  there  is  no  use  studying 
grammar."  Amid  the  thousands  of  very  grateful  ones 
who  feel  what  they  owe  to  Herbert  Spencer,  may  be 
safely  classed  that  young  scion  of  our  family.  His  grat- 
itude is  profound,  and  with  good  reason. 

Boat  o'  Garten  was  to  be  our  refuge,  a  small,  lovely 
inn  on  the  moors,  the  landlady  of  which  had  telegraphed 
us  in  a  rather  equivocal  way  in  response  to  our  request 
for  shelter.  There  was  no  other  house  for  many  miles, 
so  we  pushed  on,  trusting  to  our  star.  We  were  all 
right.  The  house  was  to  be  filled  on  the  morrow  with 
sportsmen,  and  we  could  be  entertained  "  for  this  night 
only."  Such  is  luck.  Even  as  it  was,  the  family  rooms 
had  to  be  given  up  to  us ;  but  then,  dear  souls,  there  is 
nothing  they  would  not  do  for  the  Americans.  As  for 
the  coach,  there  was  no  building  on  the  moors  high 
enough  to  take  in  the  huge  vehicle ;  but  as  showing  the 


Last  Night  on  the  Moors.  317 

extreme  care  taken  of  property  in  this  country,  I  note 
that  heavy  tarpaulins  were  obtained,  and  it  was  nicely 
covered  for  the  night.  What  a  monster  it  seemed  stand- 
ing out  in  the  darkness  ! 

After  dinner  we  received  packages  of  the  Dunferm- 
line papers  containing  the  full  account  of  the  demonstra- 
tion there  and  of  the  speeches.  It  goes  without  saying 
that  there  was  great  anxiety  to  read  the  account  of  that 
extraordinary  ovation.  Those  who  had  made  speeches 
and  said  they  were  not  very  sure  what,  were  seen  to  re- 
tire to  quiet  corners  and  bury  themselves  in  their  copies. 
Ah,  gentlemen,  it  is  of  no  use !  Read  your  orations 
twenty  times  over,  you  are  just  as  far  as  ever  from  being 
able  to  gauge  your  wonderful  performances ;  besides  the 
speech  made  is  nothing  compared  to  any  of  half  a  dozen 
you  have  since  made  to  yourself  on  the  same  subject. 
Ah !  the  Dunfermline  people  should  have  heard  these. 
So  sorry!  One  can  tell  all  about  the  speeches  of  his 
colleagues,  however,  and  we  made  each  other  happy  by 
very  liberal  laudations,  while  we  each  felt  once  more  the 
generous  rounds  of  applause  with  which  we  had  been 
greeted. 

After  mailing  copies  of  the  newspapers  to  numerous 
friends,  there  came  a  serious  cloud  over  all.  This  was 
to  be  our  last  night  on  the  moors ;  the  end  of  our  way- 
ward life  had  come.  One  more  merry  start  at  the  horn's 
call,  and  to-morrow's  setting  sun  would  see  the  end  of 
our  happy  dream.     Arcadia  would  be  no  more ;  the 


3i8  Four-in-Hand  in  Britain. 

Charioteers*  occupation  would  be  gone.  It  was  resolved 
that  something  should  be  done  to  celebrate  the  night  to 
distinguish  it  from  others.  We  would  conform  to  the 
manners  and  customs  of  the  country  and  drink  to  our 
noble  selves  in  whiskey  toddy  with  Highland  honors. 
This  proved  a  success.  Songs  were  sung ;  Aaleek  was 
in  his  most  admirable  fooling;  "your  health  and  song" 
went  round,  and  we  parted  in  tolerably  good  spirits. 

There  was  an  unusual  tenderness  in  the  grasp  of  the 
hand,  and  mayhap  something  of  a  tremor  in  the  kind 
"  Good-night,  happy  dreams,"  with  which  it  was  the 
custom  of  the  members  to  separate  for  the  night,  and 
we  went  to  bed  wondering  what  we  had  done  to  deserve 
so  much  happiness. 


Boat  o'  Garten,  August  2. 
Inverness  at  last !  But  most  of  us  were  up  and 
away  in  advance  of  the  coach,  for  who  would  miss  the 
caller  air  and  the  joy  of  the  moors  these  blessed  morn- 
ings when  it  seems  joy  enough  simply  to  breathe? 
But  did  not  we  catch  it  this  morning !  No  use  trying 
to  march  against  this  blow ;  the  wind  fairly  beat  us,  and 
we  were  all  glad  to  take  refuge  in  the  school-house  till 
the  coach  came  ;  and  glad  were  we  that  we  had  done  so. 
Was  it  not  a  sight  to  see  the  throng  of  sturdy  boys  and 
girls  gathered  together  from  who  knows  where!  For 
miles  and  miles  there  are  seen  but  a  few  low  huts  upon 
the  moors ;  but  as  some  one  has  said,  "  Education  is  a 


Advantages  of  Poverty,  319 

passion  "  in  Scotland,  and  much  of  the  admitted  success 
of  the  race  has  its  root  in  this  truth.     The  poorest  crof- 
ter in  Scotland  will  see  that  his  child  gets  to  school. 
Note  this  in  the  fine  old  song: 

"  When  Aaleck,  Jock,  and  Jeanettie 
Are  up  and  got  their  lair, 
They'll  serve  to  gar  the  boatie  row 
And  lichten  a'  our  care." 

Heavy  is  the  load  of  care  that  the  Scotch  father  and 
mother  take  upon  themselves  and  struggle  with  all  the 
years  of  their  prime  that  the  bairns  "  may  get  their  lair." 
To  the  credit  of  the  bairns  let  it  be  said  that  the  hope 
expressed  in  the  verse  just  quoted  is  not  often  disap- 
pointed. They  do  grow  up  to  be  a  comfort  to  their 
parents  in  old  age  when  worn  out  with  sacrifices  made 
for  them.  Our  great  men  come  from  the  cradles  of 
poverty.  I  think  he  was  a  very  wise  man  who  found 
out  that  the  advantage  of  poverty  was  a  great  prize 
which  a  rich  man  could  never  give  his  son.  But  we 
should  not  condemn  the  Marquises  of  Huntley,  the  Dukes 
of  Hamilton,  and  the  rest  of  them  ;  they  never  had  a  fair 
chance  to  become  useful  men.  It  is  the  system  that  is 
at  fault,  and  for  that  we  the  people  are  responsible.  The 
privileged  classes  might  turn  out  quite  respectably  if 
they  had  justice  done  them  and  were  permitted  to  start 
in  life  as  other  men  are.  For  my  part,  I  wonder  that  they 
generally  turn  out  as  well  as  they  do.  The  kite  mounts 
only  against  the  wind. 


32 o  Four-in-Hand  i7i  Britain. 

Coaching  brings  us  close  to  Nature's  sweetest  charms, 
and  the  good  universal  mother  is  always  so  gracious  to 
her  children ;  the  cawing  of  the  rook  or  the  crowing  of 
the  cock  awakens  us ;  the  green  things  and  the  pretty- 
flowers  about  the  inn,  which  greet  the  eyes  as  we  pull 
up  the  blinds,  and  the  sniff  of  fresh  morning  air  which 
a  short  stroll  before  breakfast  gives  us,  make  a  splendid 
start  for  the  day,  so  different  from  the  usual  beginning 
of  city  life.  The  whole  day  is  spent  in  the  open  air, 
walking  or  driving,  or  lolling  upon  sunny  braes  at 
luncheon,  amid  brooks  and  wild  flowers,  and  the  hum 
of  bees,  the  songs  of  birds,  and  the  grateful  scent  of 
new-mown  hay.  And  when  night  comes  we  fall  asleep, 
with  the  sense  of  dropping  softly  upon  banks  of  flowers 
without  a  thorn.  Tell  me  if  such  a  life  for  a  few  weeks 
now  and  then  is  not  the  best  cure  for  most  of  the  serious 
ills  of  this  high-pressure  age !  Every  man  who  can 
afford  it  should  give  it  a  trial.  If  overworked,  he 
should  go  to  find  the  cure — if  well,  he  should  certainly 
go  in  order  to  keep  so. 

We  all  need  to  learn  what  the  poet  says : 

"  Better  that  man  and  nature  were  familiar  friends  ; 
That  part  of  man  is  worst  which  touches  this  base  life  ; 
For  though  the  ocean  in  its  inmost  depths  be  pure, 
Yet  the  salt  fringe  which  daily  licks  the  shore 
Is  foul  with  sand.'' 

I  think  the  last  line  worthy  of  Shakespeare,  even  if 
it  be  the  product  of  a  poor  young  Glasgow  poet.     In 


Scotland's   School  Houses.  321 

this  coaching  life  we  touch  the  base  every-day  life  of 
care  and  struggle  at  very  few  points  indeed  and  hence 
our  joy.  We  are  deep  in  love  with  Nature,  and  true 
worshippers  at  her  shrine  have  few  sorrows. 

While  revelling  in  the  exquisite  beauty  of  England — 
such  quiet  and  peaceful  beauty  as  we  had  never  seen 
before — the  thought  often  came  to  me  that  I  should  be 
compelled  to  assume  the  apologetic  strain  for  my 
beloved  Scotland.  It  could  not  possibly  have  such 
attractions  to  show  as  the  more  genial  South,  but  so 
far  from  this  being  so,  as  I  have  already  said,  there  was 
scarcely  a  morning  or  afternoon  during  which  the 
triumphant  inquiry  was  not  made,  "  What  do  you  think 
of  Scotland  noo  ?  "  Of  all  that  earned  for  Scotland  the 
first  place  in  our  hearts  I  mention  the  pretty  stone 
school-houses,  with  teacher's  residence  and  garden 
attached,  which  were  seen  in  almost  every  village ;  and 
if  I  had  no  other  foundation  than  this  upon  which  to 
predict  the  continued  intellectual  ascendency  of  Scot. 
land  and  an  uninterrupted  growth  of  its  people  in  every 
department  of  human  achievement,  I  should  unhesitat- 
ingly rest  it  upon  these  school-houses.  A  people  which 
passes  through  the  parish  school  in  its  youth  cannot 
lose  its  grasp,  or  fall  far  behind  in  the  race.  Indeed, 
compared  with  the  thorough  education  of  the  masses, 
the  lives  and  quarrels  of  politicians  seem  petty  in  the 
extreme.  It  is  with  education  as  with  righteousness, 
seek  it  first  and  all  political  blessings  must  be  added 


32  2  Four-in-Hand  in  Britain. 

unto  you.  It  is  the  only  sure  foundation  upon  which 
to  rear  the  superstructure  of  a  great  State,  and  how 
happy  I  am  to  boast  that  Scotland  is  not  going  to  yield 
the  palm  in  this  most  important  of  all  work  !  No,  not 
even  to  the  Republic.  From  what  I  saw  of  the  new 
schools,  I'll  back  their  scholars  against  any  lot  of 
American  children  to-day  ;  but  I  admit  one  great  lack : 
the  former  would  strike  you  as  somewhat  too  deferential, 
disposed  to  bow  too  much  to  their  superiors  in  station, 
while  American  boys  are  said  to  be  born  repeating  the 
Declaration  of  Independence.  No  more  valuable  lesson 
can  be  taught  a  lad  than  this :  that  he  is  born  the  equal 
of  the  prince,  and  what  privileges  the  prince  has  are 
unjustly  denied  him.  It  would  do  Scotch  boys  good  to 
hear  my  young  American  nephews  upon  the  doctrine 
that  one  man  "  is  as  good  as  another  and  a  good  deal 
better."  Of  the  sights  which  cause  me  to  lose  temper, 
one  is  to  see  a  splendid  young  Briton,  a  real  manly 
fellow,  standing  mum  like  a  duffer  when  he  is  asked 
why  the  son  of  a  Guelph  or  of  any  other  family 
should  have  a  privilege  denied  to  him.  Are  you  less  a 
man  ?  Have  not  you  had  as  honest  parents  and  a  better 
grandfather?  Why  do  you  stand  this  injustice?  And 
then  he  has  nothing  to  say.  Well,  I  have  sometimes 
thought  I  have  noticed  the  cheek  a  little  redder.  That 
is  always  a  consolation.  Thank  God  !  we  have  nothing 
like  this  in  America.  Our  young  men  carry  in  their 
knapsacks  a  President's  seal,  and  no  one  is  born  to  any 


Popular  Aj?zuse77zents.  323 

rank  or  position  above  them.  Under  the  starry  flag 
there  are  equal  rights  for  all.  It  will  be  so  in  Scotland 
perhaps  ere  I  die  (D.  V.).  If  I  had  the  schooling  of 
young  Scotland  I  would  make  every  class  repeat  in  the 
morning  before  lessons : 

"  If  thou  hast  said  I  am  not  peer 
To  any  lord  in  Scotland  here, 
Highland  or  lowland,  far  or  near, 
Lord  Angus,  thou  hast  lied." 

I  would  teach  them  the  new  meaning  of  that  stirring 
verse,  and  tell  them  that  the  lad  who  did  not  believe 
himself  the  peer  of  any  man  born  and  entitled  to  every 
privilege  *'  might  do  for  an  Austrian,  a  Russian,  a 
Prussian,  or  an  Italian,"  but  never  would  be  much  of 
a  Scotchman — never. 

I  do  not  think  I  have  spoken  of  the  announcements 
of  amusements  seen  everywhere  during  the  trip  through- 
out the  rural  districts :  band  competitions,  cricket 
matches,  flower  shows,  wrestling  matches,  concerts, 
theatricals,  holiday  excursions,  races,  games,  rowing 
matches,  football  contests,  and  sports  of  all  kinds.  We 
are  surprised  at  their  number,  which  gives  incontesta- 
ble evidence  of  the  fact  that  the  British  people  work 
far  less  and  play  far  more  than  their  American  cousins 
do.  No  toilers,  rich  or  poor,  like  the  Americans !  The 
band  competitions  are  unknown  here,  but  no  doubt  we 
shall  soon  follow  so  good  an  example  and  try  them. 


324  Four 'ill-Hand  in  Britain. 

The  bands  of  a  district  meet  and  compete  for  prizes, 
which  stirs  up  wholesorrie  rivalry  and  leads  to  excel- 
lence. We  saw  eight  gathered  for  competition  in  one 
little  town  which  we  passed,  and  the  interest  excited  by 
the  meet  was  so  great  as  to  put  the  town  en  fite.  I  do 
not  know  any  feature  of  British  life  which  would  strike 
an  American  more  forcibly  than  these  contests.  We 
should  try  one  here,  and,  by  and  by,  why  not  an  inter- 
national contest — the  Dunfermline  band  playing  the 
"  Star-Spangled  Banner,''  and  the  Pittsburgh  perform- 
ers "  Rule  Britannia."  Yes,  that's  right ;  I  insist  upon 
"  Rule  Britannia " — that  is  the  nation's  song ;  I  am 
growing  tired  of  "  God  Save  the  Queen  " — even  such  a 
model  as  the  present  one — for  the  strain  is  only  per- 
sonal, after  all.  I  wish  Her  Majesty  well,  but  I  love 
my  country  more.  ".Rule  Britannia  "  is  the  national 
song. 

I  hope  Americans  will  find  some  day  more  time  for 
play,  like  their  wiser  brethren  upon  the  other  side. 

We  came  to  the  crossing  of  the  Spey  to-day  to  find 
that  the  long  high  bridge  was  undergoing  extensive  re- 
pairs and  closed  to  travel.  In  America  it  would  never 
have  occurred  to  us  that  a  bridge  could  be  closed  while 
being  rebuilt,  but  in  the  science  of  bridge-building  Brit- 
ish engineers  are  a  generation  behind  us,  because  they 
have  not  had  to  build  so  many.  However,  there  was 
nothing  for  it  but  to  follow  down  the  stream  until  an- 
other bridge  was  found.     When  we  did  find  it,  we  saw  a 


The  Last  Lnitckeo7t.  325 

notice  prohibiting  loads  beyond  two  tons  from  crossing. 
It  was  a  light  iron  structure  (perhaps  a  Tay  blunder 
upon  a  small  scale).  The  wind  was  whistling  like  a 
fiend  about  our  ears  as  it  came  roaring  down  the  glen ; 
all  pleasant  while  we  were  in  the  woods  skirting  the 
river  with  our  backs  to  it,  but  when  we  turned  to  cross 
it  seemed  as  if  we  should  be  blown  bodily  from  the  top 
of  the  coach.  Everything  was  taken  off  the  top,  and 
we  all  dismounted.  Perry  and  Joe  drove  over,  while  we 
all  walked,  some  of  us  on  the  lee  side  of  the  coach  for 
shelter,  and  in  a  few  minutes  we  were  so  sheltered  in 
the  glen  again  as  scarcely  to  know  there  was  a  breath  of 
air  stirring;  but  these  "Highland  homes  where  tem- 
pests blow  "  know  what  gales  are.  We  have  had  great 
blows  now  and  then  at  some  high  points  crossing  the 
moors,  for  the  hills  you  rarely  cross ;  these  you  have  to 
avoid,  but  to-day  was  the  only  time  we  were  compelled 
to  dismount. 

We  had  not  far  to  drive  before  we  reached  the 
pretty  little  burn  which  falls  into  the  Findhorn,  the 
spot  selected  for  the  last  luncheon. 

This  spot  seemed  made  to  order ;  the  burn,  the  fire, 
the  mossy  grass,  the  wild  river,  the  moor  and  glen, 
all  here.  Down  sat  the  Charioteers  for  the  last  happy 
luncheon  together.  We  were  all  so  dangerously  near 
the  brink  of  sad  regret  that  a  bold  effort  was  neces- 
sary to  steer  clear  of  thoughts  which  pressed  upon 
us.     We    had    to    laugh    for   fear  we   might   cry,   the 


326  Four-inHand  in  Britain. 

smile  ever  lies  so  near  the  tear.  It  had  to  be  a  lively 
luncheon,  that  was  all  there  was  about  it ;  and  when 
duty  calls  it  doesn't  take  much  to  start  our  boys  to 
frolic.  A  few  empty  bags  which  we  had  used  for  horse- 
feed  in  emergencies  suggested  a  sack-race.  Such  roars 
of  laughter  when  one  or  the  other  of  the  too  ambitious 
contestants  went  to  grass !  This  was  a  capital  diversion. 
Any  one  looking  down  upon  us  (but  in  these  lonely  glens 
no  eye  is  there  to  see)  would  never  have  imagined  that 
this  sport  was  started  only  as  a  means  to  prevent  the 
travellers  becoming  mournful  enough  for  a  funeral.  A 
little  management  is  a  great  thing;  it  pulled  us  through 
the  last  luncheon  with  only  tears  of  laughter. 

"  In,  Joe  !  Right,  Perry  !  Sound  the  horn  !  All 
aboard  for  Inverness  !  "  There  was  something  in  the 
thought,  "  We  have  done  it,"  which  kept  us  from  regret, 
although  the  rebuke  came  sharply  from  the  ladies,  as 
one  pointed  out  another  milestone,  "  Oh,  don't,  please  !  " 
With  every  white  stone  passed  there  was  a  mile  less  of 
Arcadia  to  enjoy.  Over  moor  and  dale  lies  the  way,  a 
beautiful  drive,  gradually  descending  for  many  miles, 
from  about  twelve  hundred  and  fifty  feet  above  the 
sea  level  at  Dalwhinnie  to  a  few  hundred  only  near  In- 
verness. 

At  last  the  call  is  made,  "  Stop,  Perry  !  Capital  of 
the  Highlands,  all  hail  !  Three  rousing  cheers  for  bonnie 
Inverness  !  "  There  she  lies  so  prettily  upon  the  Moray 
Frith,  surrounded  by  fields  of  emerald  green,    an  un- 


Inverness,  327 

usually  grand  situation  and  a  remarkably  beautiful  town. 
We  stopped  long  upon  the  hill-top  to  enjoy  the  picture 
spread  out  below.  The  Charioteers  will  forget  much 
ere  their  entrance  into  Inverness  fades  from  the  memory. 
A  telegram  from  friend  G.,  conveyed  to  us  the  con- 
gratulations of  our  Wolverhampton  connection  upon 
the  triumphant  success  of  our  expedition,  to  which 
something  like  this  was  sent :  "  Thanks  !  We  arrived  at 
the  end  of  this  earthly  paradise  at  six  o'clock  this  even- 
ing.    When  shall  we  look  upon  its  like  again  ?  " 


Inverness,  August  3. 

It  was  Saturday,  6  P.M.,  August  3d,  exactly  seven 
weeks  and  a  day  after  leaving  Brighton,  when  we  en- 
tered Inverness  and  sat  down  in  our  parlor  at  the  Cale- 
donian Hotel.  Up  went  the  flags  as  usual ;  dinner  was 
ordered;  then  came  mutual  congratulations  upon  the 
success  of  the  journey  just  finished.  Not  one  of  the 
thirty-two  persons  who  had  at  various  times  travelled 
with  us  ever  missed  a  meal,  or  had  been  indisposed  from 
fatigue  or  exposure.  Even  Ben  had  been  improved  by 
the  journey.  Nor  had  the  coach  ever  to  wait  five  min- 
utes for  any  one  ;  we  had  breakfasted,  lunched,  and 
dined  together,  and  not  one  had  ever  inconvenienced 
the  company  by  failing  to  be  in  time. 

How  shall  I  render  the  unanimous  verdict  of  the 
company  upon  the  life  we  had  led? 


328  Four-in-Hand  in  Britain. 

"  I  never  was  so  happy  in  my  life.  No,  Aalcck,  not 
even  upon  my  wedding  journey."  That  is  the  verdict 
of  one  devoted  young  wifC;  given  in  presence  of  her 
husband. 

"  I  haven't  been  so  happy  since  my  father  took  me 
fishing,  and  I  wasn't  as  happy  then,"  was  Aaleck's  state- 
ment. 

"  Oh,  Andrew,  I  have  been  a  young  girl  again ! " 
We  all  know  who  said  that,  Miss  Velvety. 

"  I  can't  help  it,  but  I  don't  want  to  speak  of  it  just 
now.  It's  too  sad."  Prima  Donna,  this  was  a  slightly 
perilous  line  to  follow,  for  the  heart  was  evidently  near 
the  mouth  there. 

"  To  think  of  it,  Naig,  I  have  to  go  home  to-mor- 
row."    That  was  Eliza. 

"  Jerusalem  the  golden  !  it  would  make  a  wooden 
Indian  jump,  this  life  would."  No  need  of  putting  a 
name  to  that,  Bennie,  my  lad. 

"Andrew,  I've  just  been  in  a  dream  of  happiness  all 
the  time."     That  was  oor  Davie. 

"  I  never  expect  to  be  as  happy  for  seven  weeks 
again,"  met  with  a  chorus  of  supporters. 

The  Queen  Dowager,  however,  put  us  all  in  a  more 
gleeful  mood  by  her  verdict :  "  Well,  I  expect  to  have 
another  coaching  trip  yet.  You'll  see  !  He  can't  help 
doing  more  of  this,  and  I'll  be  there.  He  can't  keep  7n^ 
at  home  ! "  And  her  hearty  laugh  and  a  clap  of  her 
hands  above  her  head  brought  us  all  merrily  to  dinner. 


MacbetJis  Castle.  329 

She  is  very  often  a  true  prophet.  We  shall  see,  we 
shall  see ! 

After  dinner  we  strolled  about  the  city  and  admired 
its  many  beauties,  especially  the  pretty  Ness,  which 
flows  through  the  town  to  the  sea.  Its  banks  and  isl- 
ands constitute  one  of  the  finest  of  pleasure-grounds 
for  the  people,  and  many  a  lover's  tale,  I  trow,  has  been 
told  in  the  shady  walks  beside  it.  I  felt  quite  senti- 
mental myself,  sauntering  along  between  the  gloaming 
and  the  mirk  with  one  of  the  young  ladies.  The  long, 
long  gloaming  of  the  north  adds  immensely  to  the 
charms  of  such  a  journey  as  this  we  have  just  taken. 
These  are  the  sweetly  precious  hours  of  the  day. 

At  Inverness  we  are  again  on  classic  ground  ;  for 
Macbeth  had  a  castle  there,  which  good  King  Duncan 
visited,  and  of  which  he  said  : 

"  This  castle  hath  a  pleasant  seat :  the  air 
Nimbly  and  sweetly  recommends  itself 
Unto  our  gentle  senses." 

It  was  razed  by  Malcolm  III.  or  Canmore,  Duncan's 
son,  who  built  a  new  castle  not  far  from  its  site.  This 
latter  fortress  existed  until  about  the  middle  of  the 
last  century,  when  it  was  blown  up  by  the  troops  of 
Charles  Edward  Stuart.  Portions  of  its  walls  may  still 
be  seen.  Culloden  field,  too,  is  hard  by,  and  all  the 
country  round  is  rich  in  ruined  keeps  and  towers. 

On  reassembling  in  our  parlor  an  ominous  lack  of 


330  Four-in-Hand  in  Britain. 

hilarity  prevailed.  We  did  manage,  however,  to  get 
the  choir  up  to  the  point  of  giving  this  appropriate 
song  with  a  sHght  variation  : 

"  Happy  we've  been  a'  thegither, 
Happy  we've  been  in  ane  and  a', 
Blyther  folk  ne'er  coached  thegither, 
Sad  are  we  to  gang  awa'.'' 

(Chorus). 

It  wasn't  much  of  a  success.  We  were  not  in  tune, 
nor  in  time  either.  Joe  and  Perry  were  to  come  at  ten 
to  say  good-by.  Here  the  serious  business  of  Hfe 
pressed  upon  us,  escape  being  impossible.  We  had  to 
meet  it  at  last.  They  came  and  received  the  thanks 
and  adieux  of  all.  I  handed  them  notes  certifying  to 
all  coming  coaching  parties  that  fortunate  indeed  would 
be  their  lot  were  Perry  and  Joe  to  take  them  in  charge. 
Joey  responded  in  a  speech  which  so  riveted  our  atten- 
tion during  delivery  that  not  one  of  us  could  recall  a 
sentence  when  he  ceased.  This  is  one  of  the  sincere 
regrets  of  the  travellers,  for  assuredly  a  copy  of  that 
great  effort  would  have  given  the  record  inestimable 
value.  It  was  a  gem.  I  have  tried  to  catch  it,  but 
only  one  sentence  comes  to  me :  "And  has  for  the  'osses, 
sir,  they  are  better  than  when  we  started,  sir;  then  they 
'ad  flabby  flesh,  sir ;  now  they're  neat  an'  'ardy."  So  are 
we  all  of  us,  Joey,  just  like  the  'osses ;  "  neat  an'  'ardy," 
fit  for  walk,  run,  or  climb,  and  bang-up  to  everything. 

We  had  all  next  day  to  enjoy  Inverness.     What  a 


Farewell  to  the  Coach,  331 

fine  climate  it  has  as  compared  with  the  Highlands  south 
of  it!  Vegetation  is  luxuriant  here  and  the  land  fertile. 
One  would  naturally  expect  all  to  be  bleak  and  bare  so 
far  north,  but  that  Gulf  Stream  which  America  sends 
over  to  save  the  precious  tight  little  isle  from  being 
a  region  of  ice  makes  it  delightful  in  summer  and 
not  extremely  cold  even  in  winter.  We  are  assured 
that  the  climate  of  Inverness  is  more  genial  than  that 
of  Edinburgh,  which  is  not  saying  very  much  for  the 
capital  of  the  North  surely,  but  still  it  is  something. 


Caledonian  Hotel, 
Inverness,  August  5,  evening. 

General  Manager,  at  dinner. 

To  waiter :  "  What  time  do  we  start  in  the  morn- 
ing?" 

Waiter  :     "  The  omnibus  starts  at  seven,  sir." 

Shakespearean  Student — "  Ah  !  There  was  the  weight 
which  pulled  us  down.  The  omnibus !  Farewell  the 
neighing  steeds,  the  spirit-stirring  horn,  whose  sweet 
throat  awakened  the  echoes  o'er  mountain  and  glen. 
Farewell,  the  Republican  banner,  and  all  the  pride, 
pomp,  and  circumstance  of  glorious  coaching,  farewell/ 
The  Charioteers'  occupation's  gone." 

First  Miltonic  Reciter — 

"  From  morn  till  noon, 
From  noon  till  dewy  eve, 
A  summer's  day  we  fell." 


332  Four-in-Hand  in  Britain. 

Our  fall  from  our  own  four-in-hand  to  a  public  omni. 
bus — oh,  what  a  fall  was  there,  my  countrymen ! — 
involved  the  loss  of  many  a  long  summer's  day  to  us, 
for  long  as  they  had  been  the  sun  ever  set  too  soon. 

It  was  all  up  after  this.  Perry  and  Joe,  the  coach 
and  the  horses,  were  speeding  away  by  rail  to  their 
homes ;  we  were  no  longer  the  coaching  party,  but  only 
ordinary  tourists  buying  our  tickets  like  other  people  in- 
stead of  travelling  as  it  were  in  style  upon  annual  passes. 
But  fate  was  merciful  to  us  even  in  this  extremity  ;  we 
were  kept  from  the  very  lowest  stage  of  human  misery 
by  finding  ourselves  alone  and  all  together  in  the 
omnibus  ;  our  party  just  filled  it.  If  it  was  only  a  hotel 
omnibus,  as  one  of  the  young  ladies  said,  it  was  all  our 
own  yet,  as  was  the  MacLean  boat  at  the  flood,  and 
the  ladies,  dear  souls,  managed  to  draw  some  consola- 
tion from  that. 

We  returned  from  Inverness  by  the  usual  tourist 
route  :  canal  and  boat  to  Oban,  where  we  rested  over 
night,  thence  next  day  to  Glasgow.  Under  any 
other  circumstances  I  think  this  part  -of  the  journey 
would  have  been  delightful.  The  scene  indelibly 
impressed  upon  our  minds  is  that  we  saw  at  night 
near  Ballachulish.  I  remember  a  party  of  us  agreed 
that  what  we  then  saw  could  never  be  forgotten. 
But  Black  alone  could  paint  it.  It  is  saying  much 
for  any  combination  of  the  elements  when  not  one 
nor  two,  but  more  of  a  party  like  ours  stand  and  whisper 


The  First  Separation.  '^■^■^^ 

at  rare  intervals  of  the  sublime  and  awful  grandeur 
■which  fascinates  them  into  silence  ;  never  am  I  lifted  up 
apparently  so  close  to  the  Infinite  as  when  amid  such 
weird,  uncanny  scenes  as  these.  We  had  an  hour  of 
this  that  night,  fitting  close  to  our  hfe  in  the  Highlands 
of  Scotland. 

The  first  separation  came  at  Greenock.  The  Queen 
Dowager,  and  Mr.  and  Mrs.  K.  disembarked  there  for 
Paisley.  The  others  continued  by  boat  to  Glasgow  and 
enjoyed  the  sail  up  the  Clyde  very  much.  It  was  Satur- 
day, a  holiday  for  the  workers.  The  miles  of  shipyards 
were  still,  ''  no  sound  of  hammers  clanking  rivets  up," 
that  fine  sunny  day,  but  as  we  passed  close  to  them  we 
saw  the  iron  frames  of  the  future  monsters  of  the  deep, 
the  Servia,  Alaska,  and  others  destined  to  bear  the  palm 
for  a  short  time,  and  then  to  give  place  to  others  still 
greater,  till  the  voyage  between  England  and  America 
will  be  only  a  five-day  pleasure  excursion,  and  there  will 
be  "  two  nations,  but  one  people."  God  speed  the  day ! 
But  the  old  land  must  come  after  a  time  up  to  Republi- 
canism !  I  make  a  personal  matter  of  that,  Lafayette, 
my  boy,  as  Mulberry  Sellers  says.  No  monarchy  need 
apply.  We  draw  the  line  at  this.  All  men  were  created 
free  and  equal.  Brother  Jonathan  takes  very  little 
"  stock "  in  a  people  who  do  not  believe  that  funda- 
mental principle. 

We  landed  at  the  Broomielaw,  whither  father  and 
mother  and  Tom  and  I  sailed  thirty  odd  years  ago,  on 


334  Four-in-Hand  in  Britain. 

the  800-ton  ship  Wiscasset,  and  began  our  seven  weeks' 
voyage  to  the  land  af  promise,  poor  emigrants  in  quest 
of  fortune  ;  but,  mark  you,  not  without  thoughts  in  the 
radical  breasts  of  our  parents  that  it  was  advisable  to 
leave  a  land  which  tolerated  class  distinctions  for  the 
government  of  the  people,  by  the  people  and  for  the 
people,  which  welcomed  them  to  its  fold  and  insured  for 
their  sons,  as  far  as  laws  can  give  it,  equality  with  the 
highest  and  a  fair  and  free  field  for  the  exercise  of  their 
powers. 

My  father  saw  through  not  only  the  sham  but  the 
injustice  of  rank,  from  king  to  knight,  and  loved 
America  because  she  knows  no  difference  in  her  sons. 
He  was  a  Republican,  aye,  every  inch,  and  his  sons 
glory  in  that  and  follow  where  he  led. 

I  remember  well  that  our  friends  stood  on  the  quay 
and  waved  farewell.  Had  their  adieu  been  translated  it 
would  have  read : 

"  Now  may  the  fair  goddess  Fortune 
Fall  deep  in  love  with  thee, 
Prosperity  be  thy  page." 

Thanks  to  the  generous  Republic  which  stood  with 
open  arms  to  receive  us,  as  she  stands  to-day  to  welcome 
the  poor  of  the  world  to  share  with  her  own  sons  upon 
equal  terms  the  glorious  heritage  with  which  she  is  en- 
dowed— thanks  to  it,  prosperity  has  indeed  been  our 
page. 


E77ibarkation  for  Ho7ne.  335 

At  St.  Enoch's  Station  Hotel,  Glasgow,  another 
separation  of  the  party  took  place.  A  delegation  of 
five  of  our  members  were  sent  to  investigate  the  Irish 
question  and  report  at  Queenstown.  Miss  E.  L.  re- 
turned to  Dunfermline.  Miss  F.  and  Mr.  and  Mrs.  K. 
were  visiting  the  Queen  Dowager  at  Paisley.  Harry 
and  I  ran  down  to  see  friend  Richards  at  his  basic  proc- 
ess at  Eston,  stopping  over  night  at  York  and  Durham, 
however,  to  enjoy  once  more  the  famous  cathedrals  and 
hear  the  exquisite  music. 


Liverpool,  August  13. 
We  sailed  to-day  in  the  Algeria,  the  great  Servia 
having  been  delayed.  Many  were  there  to  see  us  off, 
including  four  or  five  Charioteers.  The  English  are,  as 
Davie  said,  "  a  kindly  people,"  a  warm-hearted,  affec- 
tionate race,  and  as  true  as  steel.  When  you  once  have 
them  you  have  them  forever.  There  was  far  more  than 
the  usual  amount  of  tears  and  kisses  among  the  ladies. 
One  would  have  thought  our  American  and  English 
women  were  not  cousins,  but  sisters.  The  men  were,  as 
befitting  their  colder  natures,  much  less  demonstrative. 
There  seems  never  to  be  a  final  good-by  on  shipboard  ; 
at  every  ringing  of  the  bell  another  tender  embrace  and 
another  solemn  promise  to  write  soon  are  given.  But 
at  last  all  our  friends  are  upon  the  tug,  the  huge  vessel 
moves,  one  rope  after  another  is  cast  off,  handkerchiefs 
wave,  kisses  are  thrown,  write  soons  exchanged,  and  the 


2,S^  Four-in-Ha7id  in  Britain. 

tug  is  off  in  one  direction  and  we  in  another.  Some  one 
broke  the  momentary  silence  and  brought  the  last  round 
of  cheers  with  the  talismanic  call  **  Skid,  Joe  !  Right, 
Perry  !  "  That  touched  all  hearts  with  remembrance  of 
the  happy,  happy  days,  the  happiest  of  our  lives.  So 
parted  the  two  branches  of  the  Gay  Charioteers. 

At  Queenstown  we  received  the  Irish  contingent, 
who  had  enjoyed  their  week  in  the  Emerald  Isle.  Very 
nice  indeed  was  the  report,  but  with  this  quite  unneces- 
sary addenda,  "  But,  of  course,  nothing  to  coaching." 
That  goes  without  saying  in  our  ranks. 

The  Algeria  was  a  great  ship  in  her  day  ;  now  she 
is  sold  to  a  freight  line.  But  when  she  does  not  give  a 
good  account  of  herself  in  a  hurricane  do  not  pin  your 
faith  in  any  iron  ship.  You  may  still,  however,  believe 
that  one  of  steel  like  the  Servia  will  stand  anything. 
She  has  at  least  double  the  strength  of  any  iron 
steamer  afloat.  When  she  does  not  outride  the  tempest, 
you  may  give  up  in  earnest  and  decide,  like  Mrs.  Part^ 
ington  at  sea,  *'  never  to  trust  yourself  so  far  out  of  the 
reach  of  Providence  again." 

On  Wednesday  morning,  August  24th,  the  party 
reached  New  York  again,  and  were  finally  disbanded. 
Two  or  three  of  the  most  miserable  hours  I  ever  spent 
were  those  at  the  St.  Nicholas  Hotel,  where  the  Queen 
Dowager,  Ben,  and  I  lunched  alone  before  starting  for 
Cresson.  Even  Ben  had  to  take  an  earlier  train  for 
Pittsburgh,  and  I  exclaimed  :  "  All  our  family  gone  !     I 


Final  Farewells.  2)?i7 

feel  so  lonely,  so  deserted  ;  not  one  remains."  But  the 
Queen  was  equal  to  the  emergency.  "  Oh,  you  don't 
count  me,  then  !  You  have  still  one  that  sticks  to  you." 
Oh,  yes,  indeed,  sure  o  f  that,  old  lady. 

"The  good  book  tells  of  one 

Who  sticks  closer  than  a  brother; 
But  who  will  dare  to  say  there's  one 
Sticks  closer  than  a  mother  ! " 

(Original  poetry  for  the  occasion.) 

These  horrid  partings  again  ;  but  whatever  the  future 
has  in  store  for  those  who  made  the  excursion  recorded 
here,  I  think  I  can  safely  say  that  they  could  not  wish 
their  dearest  friend  a  happier  life  than  that  led  from 
June  1st  to  August  24th  by  the  Gay  Charioteers. 

Those  who  have  mounted  the  coach  become,  as  it 
were,  by  virtue  of  that  act  members  of  an  inner  circle ; 
a  band  of  union  knits  them  closely  together.  To  a  hun- 
dred dear,  kind  friends  in  the  Beautiful  Land  we  send 
thanks  and  greeting.  Their  kindness  to  us  can  never  be 
forgotten,  for  they  soon  taught  us  to  feel  that  it  was  not 
a  foreign  land  which  we  had  visited  after  all,  but  the 
dear  old  home  of  our  fathers. 

Forever  and  ever  may  the  parent  land  and  the  child 
land  grow  fonder  and  fonder  of  each  other,  and  their 
people  mingle  more  and  more  till  they  become  as  one 
and  the  same.  All  good  educated  Americans  love  Eng- 
land, for  they  know  that  she  alone  among  the  nations 

of  the  world 
22 


338  Four-in-Hand  171  Brita27t. 

"  On  with  toil  of  heart  and  knees  and  hand 
Through  the  long  gorge  to  the  far  light  hath  won 
Her  path  upward  and  prevailed." 

She  it  was  who  pointed  out  to  America  what  to 
plant,  and  how,  and  where.  The  people  of  England 
should  love  America,  for  she  has  taught  them  in  return 
that  all  the  equal  rights  and  privileges  of  man  they  are 
laboring  for  at  home  are  bearing  goodly  fruit  in  the  freer 
atmosphere  of  the  West.  May  the  two  peoples,  there- 
fore, grow  in  love  for  each  other,  and  with  this  fond  wish, 
and  many  a  sad  farewell,  the  Gay  Charioteers  disband, 
forever  afterward  in  life  to  rally  round  each  other  in  case 
of  need  at  the  mystic  call  of  "  Skid,  Joe,"  "  Right,  Perry ; " 
and  certain  of  this,  that  whatever  else  fades  from  the 
memory,  the  recollection  of  our  coaching  trip  from 
Brighton  to  Inverness  remains  a  sacred  possession  for- 
ever. 


THE  RECORD. 

BRIGHTON  TO  INVERNESS,  JUNE  17   TO  AUGUST  3,  1881. 


June  17 Brighton  (The  Grand  Hotel). 

"     " Guildford  (The  White  Lion) 42 

'*    18  and  19.  .Windsor  (The  Castle) 32 

"    20 Reading  (The  Queen's) 27 

"    21 Oxford  (The  Clarendon) 34 

"    22 Banbury  (The  White  Lion) 23 

"    23 Stratford-on-Avon  (The  Red  Horse) 18 

"    24 Coventry  (The  Queen's) 22 

"    25  to  30 Wolverhampton  (English  Homes,  best  of  all) 33 

July  I    Lichfield  (The  Swan) 20 

' '    2  and  3. . . .  Dovedale  (The  Izaak  Walton) 26 

"    4    Chatsworth  (The  Edensor) 24 

"    5    Buxton  (The  Palace) 26 

"    6    Manchester  (The  Queen's) 23 

"    7    Chorley  (Anderton  Hall) 14 

"    8    Preston  (The  Victoria) 16 

"    9  and  10. . . Lancaster  (The  County) 29 

"    II Kendal  (King's  Arms) 22 

"    12 Grassmere  (Prince  of  Wales) 18 

"    13 Keswick  (The  Keswick) 12 

"    14 Penrith  (The  Crown) 16 

"    15 Carlisle  (The  County  and  Station) 16 

"    16  and  17.  .Dumfries  (The  Commercial) 32 

"    iS Sanquhar  (The  Queensberry) 28 

"    19 Old  Cumnock  (Dumfries  Arms) 29 

"    20 Douglas  (Douglas  Arms) 28 

"    21  to  26  ..  .Edinburgh  (The  Royal) 44 

"    27  and  28 . .  Dunfermline  (The  City  Arms) 1^ 

"    29 Perth  (The  Royal  George) 32 

"    30  and  31 . .  Pitlochrie  (Fisher's  Hotel) 33 

August  I Dalwhinnie  (The  Loch  Ericht) 32 

"       2 Boat  o'  Garten  (The  Boat  o'  Garten) 35 

"      3 Inverness  (The  Caledonian) 29 

Total  Miles, 831 


A/eteter  Farrwly  Library  dVetennafy  Medtewe 

(^yKuntngs  School  of  Veterinary  Medkane  m 

Tufts  University 

200  Westbofo  Road 

Worth  Grafton  MA  0l53i 


